Fix You
by DreamingOfParadise
Summary: Carlisle and Bella are brought together during a traumatising event, but will they be able to survive and cope with what they witness? All human, mature for violence and angst.
1. Prologue

**Fix You**

_**Prologue**_

_Bella's POV_

"Bella."

His soft voice is the only sound in the large empty room which I call home. He says my name slowly, calm and measured as though I'm fragile and might break, when all I want him to do is hold me. At the same time it's oddly soothing; it's a relief from the loud noises outside which make my head ache.

There's a small frown between his eyebrows and the longing to make it disappear by pressing my lips there ripples through me, tempting me like the serpent luring Adam and Eve towards the forbidden fruit. He runs a hand distractedly through his hair; it's clear from his face that he's torn between doing the right thing, and just giving in and being selfish for once in his life.

"Bella," he continues, meeting my eyes with his beautiful brown ones, "I shouldn't be here. I _really_ shouldn't be here. Not again."

The words are like a dagger in my chest; each syllable winds me. I should have tried to stop this before it all got out of control, but there was nothing I could do. I was helpless and I needed him there.

I still do. I still need him.

And now we're in too deep. I can see that it's going to hurt and, judging by the look on Carlisle's face, he does too.

It's unavoidable.

"Why not?" I manage to ask eventually, after a long silence. "Why can't you be here?"

When he stares back at me wordlessly, I realise just how desperate I must sound. Yet, as pitiful as it may be, it was an honest question; if he's going to leave me to cope on my own after all we've been through together then I need a decent answer. He needs to justify his actions.

His mouth opens and closes three times as he tries to construct his response. Hope flickers inside me like a light; maybe he doesn't have a reason. Maybe he doesn't want to go.

"Bella, you know why," he says with a sigh. "I'm married."

The darkness suddenly descends around me and becomes suffocating. I push the air in and out of my lungs, trying to stop the images flickering in my mind that I'd once been able to push away. The blood, the flames, the lifeless eyes.

I feel warmth on my hand and open my eyes to see Carlisle's fingers on mine; that brings back memories too, everything does. The brilliant compassion is clear in his expression once again; the genuine concern he has for everybody he encounters is evident.

I want more than his concern.

"I know it's tough, Bella, and I'm... I'm sorry if I've made it any worse. So sorry."

As he takes a breath, I use the chance to plead. "You haven't made it worse, Carlisle. You've helped me survive." It all comes out in a rush, an anxious mess. "I dread to think what would have happened if you weren't always there for me."

His face turns tortured this time and he removes his hand abruptly. Both of them are now balled into tight fists on his lap and he's never felt so far away.

"I really do love your company," he starts, speaking with his eyes closed tight, "and I'm so glad that I've been able to help you, but I fear I'm becoming too involved. I... I'm slowly losing control, Bella, and I want to stop this before I do, before people get hurt. I couldn't bear that."

I can only stare at him blankly. The dark hole is returning, taunting me as it creeps slowly nearer, and I want to gladly crawl into it to hide; maybe then I could avoid the painful thoughts of Carlisle being with his wife, loving her instead of me.

He suddenly moves forward, brushing a finger across my cheek. His touch is like a ghost's and is so brief that it's over before I can really register it. _Savour _it. "Don't cry, Bella, please don't... it breaks my heart, it really does."

Maybe that would be fair. He's already broken mine and perhaps he deserves that in return.

"Okay." I can't force out any more words and I just stare at my hands.

They're shaking.

"There are other people out there who are trained to help victims like you," he continues. "I'm not qualified in that field. I should have realised that sooner before I did any damage."

"You're a doctor... you heal people," I protest. His face turns sadder.

"No, Bella. I... I'm sorry, I can't help you anymore."

"You were _there_ with me. You understand what we've been through... _Carlisle_!"

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I've left you a list of numbers of people who can help you. It's on the table over there. Whenever you need it, please tell me that you'll use them? Bella?" His voice seems reluctant, almost unsure, but maybe that's just my wishful thinking. I move my head forward a fraction to nod.

"Right. Good." My eyes aren't focused on him anymore, but I see a blur of white and blue move upwards; he's standing, ready to leave.

"I'm sorry."

Those are his final words. I force my eyes to remain down, yet it's incredibly difficult when he leans close and presses a gentle kiss on my sizzling forehead. His lips leave a tingling mark, almost like he's branded me.

But then, with a brief breeze that blows his familiar scent in my direction, he's gone.


	2. Chapter One

**Fix You**

_Chapter One_

Bella's POV

_**A few months earlier...**_

Somebody's staring at me.

The back of my neck is prickling oddly and I've just got the strangest feeling that a pair of eyes are focusing on me, scrutinising my every move. I might be imagining it, but it just_ feels_ as though I'm being watched; it's a gut feeling that I can't seem to shake off.

Despite this, I try my hardest to ignore it and circle my fingers around the rim of the coffee mug in front of me; the delicate movement makes an eerie sound and I stop after a few circulations. Following that, I raise the cup to my lips and swallow some of the warm, sweet liquid; the heat travels down my throat and into my stomach.

Normally I'd enjoy the sensation. But the uncomfortable feeling of paranoia is still there, and it dominates my senses.

It's beginning to piss me off now, actually; surely I'm entitled to drink in peace after a hectic day? This is meant to be my place to escape.

Suddenly, without thinking, I whirl around, not even trying to be subtle. Nobody in the coffee shop looks up or even acknowledges me; there's a blond man in the corner with his face buried in a newspaper, a couple of girls giggling as they study their phones, and a middle aged man busy eating a chocolate muffin.

_Looks like I'm getting paranoid. _

Unless_ somebody's being very ninja-like..._

Feeling a little stupid, I slowly turn back around and let out a heavy sigh. It's not long before my attention is caught by a blur of flame red, though, and I glance up to see the owner of the shop giving me a strange look. I raise an eyebrow at her but she just laughs, proceeding to wipe the counter happily.

_Okay then._

Annoyingly, I can sense that my cheeks are beginning to heat up, so I continue to read my book that I _had_ been enjoying before all the distractions. It takes a while to find the right line and I force myself to make sense of the words, but they all seem to just jumble into one, mostly because I can't ignore the niggling feeling that's returned in full force.

For God's sake, I came here to relax, not to be hassled.

I turn once again and this time it seems as though I've caught the culprit; the blond in the corner startles slightly when I face his direction and the newspaper rattles suspiciously in his hands.

_Gotcha._

He's quite a distance away and I can't quite make out his features from where I'm sat; I guess I've never really been blessed with great eyesight. I keep making a point of going to the opticians but never quite get around to doing it. Or_ really_ it's because I'm an awful procrastinator and the idea of having to wear glasses makes me wrinkle my nose.

I continue to squint over at him, but his face never emerges from behind the article. It's a little worrying to think that he might be watching me, but the overriding feeling is curiosity. There's nothing _that_ interesting about me.

"Trying to get somebody's attention?"

I quite literally jump out of my seat and whip back around to see the flame haired woman looking at me with a smirk. She's leaning close to me conspiratorially, wiping the table at the same time with a wet dishcloth, and I feel a little miffed. The name tag on her blue apron says 'Victoria' and she has a notepad and pen stuffed in her pocket ready to take orders.

Maybe I could order her to mind her own bloody business.

"Excuse me?" is the only reply I can manage.

"You keep turning around and looking at that guy in the corner. I've been watching you do it."

I frown at her. "Well that's not weird at all."

She laughs, somehow sounding sophisticated and mysterious at the same time. "He's been looking at you too."

My eyes widen in surprise; I wasn't imagining it after all, then. My initial instinct is to act sceptical; I play dumb. "Really?"

"Mmm-hmm." A chair scrapes back and she takes a seat beside me. _Blimey, this woman _really_ doesn't mind getting involved._ "He seemed pretty much interested ever since you first walked in."

"You're being ridiculous." I realise that probably sounds a bit nasty, but she grins before I can take it back.

"No, I'm just being observant, honey. But hey, I guess it isn't really any of my business."

"You've finally hit the nail on the head," I mutter bitterly. As she gets up, I feel a pang of guilt. "Sorry, that was a bit rude."

"It's fine," she smiles. "I've had plenty of customers who've been _much_ viler than that." Her eyes seem distant for a brief moment in what I assume is a memory, but before I can ask if she's okay, she suddenly heads behind me. When that _finally_ registers with me, I realise, in alarm, that she's heading over to the blond. If she says _anything_ suggestive I swear I'm going to-

Oh God, I can't bear it. Why is she _doing_ this?

I need to escape. _Now_. It's like being in high school, sending somebody over to talk to the person you have a crush on.

Except that's a completely stupid comparison.

Without another moment's hesitation, I gather my bag and hurry into the toilets, locking myself away into the safety of a cubicle. It feels incredibly immature hiding away like this, but I have no idea what came over me.

It's not exactly pleasant in here now that I start to calm down; in fact, the smell's actually making me feel a little ill, but I have to endure it.

I stay in here for a few minutes, take a deep breath, then flush the toilet and head over to wash my hands. It takes a silly amount of time to pluck up the courage to walk back out but, when I do, I keep my head down with all the effort I can gather. I stare at my feet the whole way, watching each footstep I take on the floor.

So it comes as a pretty big shock when I realise the blond's actually sitting at my table, looking at me expectantly.

With my mouth wide open, I catch Victoria's eye and she just winks at me. _Thanks a lot, _I mouth and she just sets off to help another customer.

I don't think I've ever felt this awkward in my entire life.

There are two options; I could walk straight past and out of the shop, forgetting this whole thing ever happened. Or, I could sit down and talk to this man. In the process, I could possibly find out why he might have been staring at me.

The curiosity is bugging me.

Because of this, I smile and take a seat, giving Victoria another pointed look. When my eyes move back to the man's, however, I'm quite taken aback; he really isn't what I expected to see. Close up, his blond hair is pleasantly ruffled, as though he's constantly been running his fingers through it. The lights from above shine down on his face and I see light shadows beneath his eyes; perhaps he's tired or stressed?

_What does it matter to me?_

Regardless of this, I continue to take in his appearance; his brown eyes are on mine looking bright and receptive, but they're framed by his frowning eyebrows. I'm also interested to see a tiny scar on his forehead; I curiously wonder how that happened.

I'm probably supposed to say something at this point instead of scanning him.

"Um... hi," I stammer, sounding a little choked.

Suddenly, without warning, his face turns amused and the area around his eyes crinkles wonderfully; he looks ten years younger at the very least. His lips turn upwards, revealing some teeth. "Hello," he replies, his voice soft and smooth, like something off a commercial. It's also low and almost rumbles in his chest and, when he swallows, I notice his Adam's apple bobbing.

_Why am I even thinking this? Inappropriate is not a strong enough word; I'm acting like a stupid school girl._

I laugh nervously and run a hand through my own hair self-consciously. His eyes stray upwards to watch this. "Uh... without meaning to sound rude... why exactly are you here?" I ask tentatively. "At my table, that is. I don't begrudge you coming in here to drink a coffee or anything."

He looks startled, his eyes turning wide, but he soon laughs; it's a glorious sound that I want to hear again and again.

_For God's sake, Bella, he's a stranger. _Get over it_._

_A beautiful stranger, though, _a part of me adds.

"That's a fair question," he replies, leaning forward onto his elbows. His arms look big underneath the blue shirt and tie that covers them. "And I'm afraid my answer might sound a little stupid."

"There's only one way to find out."

He sighs and presses his lips together. It's quite alarming how intense this seems to be; we're almost constantly making eye contact and, even though this would normally make me feel uncomfortable, I find myself unwilling to look away.

I don't know what's come over me.

"It's your book," he says randomly and both my eyebrows raise behind my fringe of hair.

"My _book_?"

"I heard the door opening and glanced up, naturally, to see you carrying it. I read it a few weeks ago."

All this fuss... over a _book? _

Well, I suppose it _is_ a good book but still... all this hassle! Unless he's using it as some kind of excuse...

No. That's just ridiculous. Just go with it.

"Really?" I manage after a while. "That's... um, well, that's a bit of a coincidence. It's not the most famous of books. Even though-"

"It should be," he finishes and I stare at him open-mouthed; that was exactly what I was going to say. We both laugh and I shift in my seat. Do we have something in common? Or am I just hoping?

To be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure what's happening at all.

But it's kind of exciting that way.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" he asks out of the blue. "It's been a while since I read it and something's bugging me."

I nod and, after meeting my eyes for further approval, he reaches over and holds the book in his hands, looking at the text as though it's sacred. The expression on his face conveys that he's completely absorbed and I watch in fascination as his lips moves when he quietly reads the words to himself.

Then my eyes move to his hands and I see something that crushes the hope which I didn't even know was inside of me.

There's a wedding ring on his finger.

I really shouldn't be feeling so disappointed; we've only just met.

Yet I feel my mood drop right down, plummeting as though I'm on a rollercoaster, and a strange feeling settles in my stomach. I try to give myself a mental slap and tell myself to get real. _Get over it, Bella._

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

The man's looking at me with a frown between his eyebrows; it makes him look a lot older and wiser. "You seem upset," he comments and I just want to kick myself at this moment. Why am I letting this get to me, seriously? I've seen other beautiful people out with partners before; I've come to accept that I'm lonely.

Yet, for some odd reason that I can't begin to fathom, this hurts more than ever before. It's like a kick in the stomach, with steel capped shoes.

"I'm fine," I reply, forcing on my fake smile. It feels like I'm a robot, mechanically ordering my muscles to move into place. "Sorry, I was just going to leave actually." I stand up quickly and almost lose my balance. He copies my actions and moves his hands to steady me. Instead of thanking him, I just ask for my book back, my voice devoid of any emotion.

"Thank you," he says quietly, sounding puzzled at my sudden change of heart. "It was... uh, nice meeting you, even though it was very brief."

Looking up at him would probably make the pain worse.

So, naturally, I do it.

"It was," I murmur. After an awkward moment's silence, I head towards the door.

But I never get outside.

A loud noise comes out of nowhere and we all swerve around to see the door being swung open so forcefully that it almost swings off the hinges; a man is standing in the doorway and an icy breeze sweeps in from behind him. His eyes are dark and angry behind the mask that he wears, blazing with a fierce rage that makes a shiver run across my skin, despite the thick layers of clothing which are covering me.

He steps forward, raising an arm; almost as soon as he does so, I feel somebody pulling me backwards. I briefly realise that it's the blond man shielding me with his body. It puzzles me why he's doing this, but I soon realise and my blood runs cold.

There's a gun in the man's hand which shakes violently, and his finger is twitching on the trigger; I can see the dirt encrusted under his tobacco stained nails.

We're closest to him, yet everybody in the room tenses and there are a few screams of horror. It takes all my courage to glance at somebody else, to remove my gaze from the threat; the blond man from earlier meets my eyes, and his are full of panic and fear, almost like a mirror. His body is pressed against mine, though, acting as a shield; I pray and _pray_ that he won't get hurt as a consequence.

Victoria is standing behind the counter, looking absolutely horrified, but there's something different in her expression. It looks like... recognition.

Does she _know_ this person?

My suspicions are confirmed almost instantly. "James...?" she whispers quietly, but the sound seems so loud in the quiet room. The man suddenly aims the weapon in her direction and she ducks under the counter, fast as lightning.

_Oh God, please don't hurt her. _Please_._

One tiny movement could end a life in the blink of an eye; years of memories could be erased, somebody's son or daughter wiped off the face of the earth.

Somebody could _die_.

The shock of that ripples through me and I sway on the spot.

My morning had been so normal... everybody's probably had.

But this is turning into an awful nightmare.

"Glad to see you recognise me, _Vicky_," he spits venomously, striding over to where she is cowering. Before he does so, he pulls out a key and locks the door shut carefully behind him. As well as this, he pulls down the blinds that reveal the outside world, giving us no way to escape. The daylight is sucked out of the room.

It doesn't help that this cafe is in a quieter part of Forks; nobody can save us.

I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting to hear a gunshot, a wail, but I just hear a screech. When I peek again, I see that he's dragging Victoria by her hair and she's now in front of me, in the open, vulnerable.

He's still holding the gun a few inches away from us and his eyes flicker dangerously around the room. He spots both the girls from earlier and the man who was happily eating a muffin; no one had _ever_ expected this to happen. "You three, get behind these now or I'll blow their brains out." Nobody moves and he shakes the gun. "_Now_!"

I automatically suck in air when they slowly move. _Don't hurt them, please, God. _

The older man carefully walks over with his hands in the air, his eyes never leaving the gunman's; I see that his whole body is quivering. The two girls are crying hysterically but they obey the orders regardless.

How did this _happen_?

"So, _Vicky._" He removes his mask suddenly and I'm disgusted. His greasy dirty-blond hair is scraped back into a ponytail and dirt is smeared over his skinny face. When he sneers at us all, relishing in the power that he has, I see his yellow stained teeth.

"Why are you d-doing this?" Victoria stammers and immediately I fear for her.

He edges closer, grinning all the way like a twisted evil clown. "You're gonna regret doing what you did, Vicky." The smell of his breath reaches me and the mixture of alcohol and cigarettes is sickening. "Although, don't worry, that won't be for too long, 'cause you're all gonna die." His hand slithers under her chin for a brief moment. "Oh, and down here," he pauses for what I assume is dramatic effect, "nobody can hear you scream."

He chuckles to himself, amused by the pain he's inflicting, and he suddenly removes a backpack from his shoulder. As he rummages through the contents with a single hand, the other still holding the gun at us, I feel a sudden pressure on my own. Rigidly, I look down and see that somebody has interlinked their hand with mine, and that the person suddenly squeezes, trying to convey reassurance and security through their warm touch.

I glance up, all the way up, and see the blond man looking down at me somberly. His lips are set in a hard line.

And then, when he lets go abruptly, my hand falls back to my side limply.

I wish I knew his name.

At the same time that I think all of this, a silent tear falls down my cheek. Knowing that it will betray me, I roughly wipe it away and wait to find out my fate.


	3. Chapter Two

**Fix You**

_Chapter Two_

Carlisle's POV

"Why don't you just go over there and say something to her, for crying out loud?"

I jump behind the article I'm attempting to read and glance up to see a red-headed lady looking down at me with her eyebrows raised high up into her forehead. To say I'm confused would be an understatement, and I calmly ask her to repeat whatever it was she has just said.

She rolls her eyes at my reply just like a teenager and I wonder if this is some kind of fun game for her. "You've been staring at that girl ever since she walked in. Don't act all innocent because you damn well know you did."

I swallow and try to keep calm; I thought I was being subtle. Clearly not. Do I look like some kind of creep now? A man who just sits in cafés and stares at beautiful women?

I couldn't help it. As soon as she came in and my gaze naturally moved to look at her, I was alarmed by her beauty. She looked so sad with her eyes down on the floor, but her brilliant clear skin and free flowing hair had just completely distracted me.

It was forbidden of me in so many ways, but I couldn't stop myself from being helplessly attracted.

Nothing's going to come of it, though. It can't.

"Hello?"

The woman, whose name I discover is Victoria from the name tag on her apron, waves her hands impatiently in front of my distant face. I blink and refocus on her.

"Go over there and say something to her! Gee, I never knew it'd be this difficult!"

Carefully, I glance over to where the topic of our conversation is sitting and realise, with disappointment and surprise, that she's gone.

That's that, then. It was just a pathetic moment of weakness that I can forget about.

"She's not there anymore," I state, somewhat stupidly, and she sighs and takes a seat. This is a mirror of what she did to the woman just earlier - yes, I was watching - and I find myself wondering what they were talking about.

"That's because she's in the toilet," she replies calmly. "I suggest that, when she comes back, you go over and find something to make a topic of conversation about."

I frown suddenly. "Pardon me for being rude, but what business is it of yours, anyway?"

"None," she says with a sudden bright smile. "But I fancy myself as a matchmaker."

The urge to place my head in my hands is overwhelming; I settle with a hand through my hair. "I don't know why you're doing this, but it's not going to happen. I'm married." Just for emphasis, I hold up my hand and show her the wedding ring.

Her face remains calm.

"But are you happily married?"

She stands up and starts to walk away while I let that question settle in. Of course we're happily married, Esme and I. Of course we are.

Every couple argues now and then; it's completely natural.

Victoria turns back around with a satisfied smile on her face. "Why not start with the book?"

She heads back around to the counter and serves two teenagers a couple of drinks, continuing on obliviously like nothing ever happened. She's certainly got some nerve to poke into people's affairs.

_Affair_.

That wouldn't happen. I'm a respectable man with respectable values.

This place is like some kind trap, it must be. The woman, whose name I don't even _know_, is tempting me, luring me in without saying a single word. She's like some sort of curse... or is it a blessing? Has she made me realise some truths?

I could just walk out right now and forget this ever occurred. I need to.

But the curiosity and temptation...

Without really knowing what's happening, I suddenly find myself walking towards the woman's table and sitting down. It's almost as though I don't have any control over my body anymore. I imagine that Victoria is feeling pretty smug at the moment, but I fidget with my hands on my lap, questioning my sanity.

What if I scare her? She might have actually caught me staring; I remember her turning around so quickly at one point that I had to duck behind my newspaper like a fool.

This is ridiculous.

I start to get up, but then see her once again approaching me, her attention focusing down at the floor. With such beautiful eyes, she should be looking upright and meeting the world, not wasting them on the ground. I wonder what's causing her such pain.

As if she can hear my thoughts, she suddenly glances at me and everything turns a little terrifying. Her face is full of confusion, anxiety and something else that I'm in too much of a daze to identify. Her brown eyes turn wide and her head turns towards Victoria; the woman mouths something to her and she winks mysteriously, before serving somebody else.

I'm fully expecting her to walk away; I honestly wouldn't blame her if she did. Yet, to my complete surprise, she suddenly smiles beautifully, an action which lights up her whole face, and she takes a seat beside me. Now that we're so close, I can smell her flowery perfume; it's almost like everything about her is alluring.

A brief image of Esme flickers in my mind.

"Um... hi."

The woman in front of me speaks and the picture is wiped away almost immediately, replaced by what's in front of me now. Feeling completely overwhelmed by this, I feel there's nothing else I can do apart from smile back, and I watch how her expression changes too. She takes a deep breath and I see that her shoulders aren't so tense anymore; is she beginning to relax around me?

I don't know why that makes me feel so good. I don't know why I'm even _doing _this.

"Hello," I reply, unsure of what else to add. Strangely, she stares at my neck. In return, I watch as she smooths her hair and makes her messy fringe lay above her eyes.

I can see that this is getting out of control.

Just as I consider leaving, she speaks, not giving me the chance. "Uh... without meaning to sound rude... why exactly are you here? At my table, that is. I don't begrudge you coming in here to drink a coffee or anything."

My eyes turn wide at the unexpected question. Her ramble was kind of... adorable? Is that the word?

I'm definitely in too deep.

Without warning, I chuckle. It's certainly been a while since I had something to genuinely laugh at. "That's a fair question." I dare to lean closer and she doesn't move back or even look startled. Is this progress? "And I'm afraid my answer might sound a little stupid."

"There's only one way to find out." The way she speaks seems somehow seductive to my ears and I sigh once more.

_You should stop this_, a voice warns.

I need to find something to talk to her about. What was it Victoria had advised...?

"It's your book," I say suddenly, remembering. This could go horrendously; even though I've read the book - my library is pretty vast and I often go there to escape, ashamedly - there's a limited amount of conversation we could have about it.

But the thrill of the unexpected is pumping adrenalin through my body.

_You should_ really _stop this._

"My _book_?" she replies, looking a little confused.

_Think, think! _"I heard the door opening and glanced up, naturally, to see you carrying it. I read it a few weeks ago." That's a lie; I had the book last year and can barely remember it. This encounter is just full of sin.

Surprisingly, though, we actually start talking about the book and somehow end up laughing; how did this _happen_?

It's terrible that the guilt inside me that was previously gnawing away has now receded into a dark corner. I've no doubt that it will return in full force later to devour me, but it almost seems worth it to be talking to this intriguing lady.

To make this seem a little more convincing, I ask to look at the book and re-read some lines to help with my memory. A few familiar words jump out at me and I smile to myself; at the same time, I can feel the burn of her eyes on me and look up at my company.

I'm puzzled by what I find.

The sadness in her eyes has returned and it seems to drain the light away from her face. She's almost staring at me blankly and the doctor's instinct to find out what's wrong emerges. "Excuse me, are you alright?" I ask. It feels as though she's looking right through me, like she's imagining that she's somewhere else. "You seem upset..."

Her face crumples and I just want to touch her and make everything better. Even though this thought startles me, I still suffer from the urge.

"I'm fine," she replies emotionlessly, and I don't believe a word.

What have I done? Has she finally realised how crazy this is?

Maybe that's for the best.

"Sorry, I was just going to leave actually." She gets up abruptly and almost loses her balance; I steady her with my hands and feel the warmth coming through her clothing. There's no response from her, though, and she just takes her book back in silence.

"Thank you," I say quietly, not knowing what else to do. "It was... uh, nice meeting you, even though it was very brief."

I mean every word, even though it's all been totally wrong of me, and she looks up at me briefly. I want so badly to make her smile again.

"It was."

Without another action, she heads towards the door and I feel completely helpless. I'm torn between doing something and just standing here doing _nothing_.

It's turns out that I have no choice anyway.

The door of the café swings open violently without any warning, crashing on its hinges and, luckily, the woman's a safe distance away from harm.

At least I thought so.

In the blink of an eye, the man in the doorway pulls out a gun from his pocket and there are sharp intakes of breath all around the room. We're the closest to him, the most at threat, and my heart plummets as that thought sinks in.

I thought this kind of thing only ever happened to people in movies and television shows.

It looks like I was wrong. Horribly wrong.

Once or twice in the hospital I've had the misfortune of seeing the horrifying damage that a bullet can do. It recklessly rips through flesh, tearing away at muscle and tissue, and could quite easily end a life within seconds.

The man holding the weapon looks unstable and his frantic eyes send a shiver through my body. Without thinking, I move to protect the woman I'd previously thought of as some kind of curse, wanting to keep her from any harm.

It's a natural instinct, an action that's already done before I can even think about it.

He orders each of us around, gathering all the occupants into the middle of the room, and we're all vulnerable. If any of us makes a wrong move, it could all end.

My problems from earlier seem pitifully insignificant now. This puts everything into perspective.

It appears that this man, this twisted horrible man, knows Victoria the owner, and I wonder what could have happened between the pair to spark such an action of violence. He continues to threaten us all and his words drip with venom.

"You're gonna regret doing what you did, Vicky," he sneers. "Although, don't worry, that won't be for too long, 'cause you're all gonna die. Oh, and down here nobody can hear you scream."

He's probably right; this area is secluded. Just earlier I'd been admiring it's silence and privacy; now I'm cursing it.

On instinct, I reach for the woman's hand and squeeze it, trying to both share and find some comfort. She meets my eyes and we share a desperate look; it doesn't last long because we soon lose contact and our hands fall limply to our sides.

I don't know what to feel. I know that I should be worried about not seeing Esme again; part of me is, but the primary worry of mine is making sure that the woman beside me makes it out without harm.

I need to know her name.

The man is busy removing something from his backpack, regularly taking glances back at us, and I use this opportunity to whisper quietly in her ear. "What's your name?"

She jumps slightly and a few of the terrified victims around us look to me in disapproval and fear. "It's Bella," she replies; it's barely audible but I hear her clearly. Bella; what a suitable name.

"I'm Carlisle," I murmur. A strange look passes over her face, but that's probably just from the panic she's undoubtedly feeling.

James, as I remember him being called, returns with a roll of duct tape in his hand and the gun still upright in the other, as threatening as ever. "Get down, now, all of you!" he barks and nobody hesitates. "You two," he points to the two teenagers, "get over there and hand me your phones, _now_."

They're both crying but they follow his orders and move to the right of the room. He takes their mobile phones and throws them to the floor, crushing them with a twist of his shoe. Following that, he sits them both against separate tables and begins taping their legs together. After this, he tapes their arms behind their backs and secures them against the table.

When he's finished and satisifed that they can't move or escape, he stalks back over to us. Using the gun, he points to Bella and myself. "You two, over here."

He does the same to us two and crushes our only chance of survival before our eyes. Before we can protest, we're both trapped and stuck to the table legs, and Bella, sat on my left with me on her right, looks at me with watery eyes.

It breaks my heart seeing the tears trailing down her cheeks. I want nothing more than to wipe them away.

How is it possible to care so much for a stranger I've only met for about fifteen minutes?

He finally repeats the procedure with Victoria and a middle aged man, and we're all separated around the room in pairs; some are on the left, Bella and I are in the middle, and the two teenagers are on the right, all of us a decent distance apart from one another.

James circles us all, checks that all the doors and windows are locked, and helps himself to a coffee behind the counter.

He is vile.

"This should be fun," he smiles while taking a seat and making himself comfortable in front of us. The gun is swirling in his hand and his eyes travel across the helpless victims. "So, who's gonna be first?"

Before those words really sink in, he moves at lightning speed, and there's a deafening gunshot to the left and screams of horror echo around the room.


	4. Chapter Three

**Fix You**

_Chapter Three_

Bella's POV

There's blood everywhere.

It's pooling rapidly by my leg and I can feel that it's warm and wet, slowly saturating my clothes. I'm using all my strength not to look down or over to the left but there's something pulling my eyes that way. I know that, if I take a glimpse, the image will be scorched into my brain for the rest of my life, yet some invisible rope helplessly makes me do so. The curiosity is overwhelming and it overtakes my common sense.

I glance over for the briefest of seconds, but that's all it takes, and a strangled sob escapes from my lips; the sound echoes eerily around the quiet room.

The middle aged man from earlier is slumped forward, still attached to the table leg with duct tape, and I can clearly see the stain around his chest where the bullet recklessly tore through him. His eyes are wide open from shock and will stay that way in death, and they stare lifelessly at the floor, never able to see another image again.

None of us even knew his name.

Victoria, who's positioned directly beside him, is clearly trying to look calm, but the way that her bottom lip is quivering tells me that she's breaking apart inside, and I wouldn't blame her one bit; a man has just died a few inches away from her.

There's movement from my right and I drag my eyes over to look at Carlisle; in all honesty, I'd completely forgotten that he was there. I try to make my face move as we look at one another, but nothing happens. Instead, I just feel hot tears burning my cheeks. Without making a noise, he just stares at me with his mouth slightly open, and the fear there in his eyes makes a shiver travel across my skin. He seemed so calm before and this contrast is terrifying.

"Why are you doing this, James?"

We both jump when Victoria suddenly erupts from the corner, anger and desperation dripping from her voice, and I see now that she's shaking violently; the panic she'd been trying so hard to contain has clearly grown out of her control. In response to the loaded question, James just smirks and casually saunters over to kneel in front of her.

_Oh God, not her too..._

"Why do you _think_, Vicky?" he replies. He rests his arm on her shoulder and the gun points in my direction. Unable to bear what could happen, I just close my eyes and listen, trying to imagine I'm somewhere else.

"I haven't done anything wrong," she whispers weakly and I picture that I'm merely hearing a minor argument; I'm still in the cafe drinking coffee happily. It's all perfectly normal.

"Don't give me that_ bullshit_!"

His loud voice shatters the fantasy and my eyes snap open back to reality. Now, the gun's against Victoria's temple and the urge to cry is overwhelming once again.

Why is this happening to us? We're all good people, we don't deserve this-

"Bella... _Bella_."

My body stiffens noticeably when Carlisle quietly says my name. I give him an incredulous look; does he have a death wish? Despite this, he meets my eyes and somehow manages to pull me in for a brief moment. "It'll be okay," he murmurs.

I quickly glance over to James and see that he's still busy taunting Victoria, seemingly oblivious to everything else. Reluctantly, I look back to Carlisle and sigh. "I'm finding that hard to believe."

"Have a little faith."

"Faith? A caring God wouldn't put us through_ this_." My voice almost sounds like a hiss and for one terrifying moment I fear that James might have heard, but he seems to be absorbed in all things Victoria and doesn't even move. All I can think is that she must have done something awful for him to react like this.

"Just trust me, Bella," he replies eventually. "I'll get us out of this."

"You shouldn't make promises that you have no way of keeping." My voice breaks during my reply and I stare down at my hands desperately.

"Bella, if this is going to work then we need to trust one another."

After glancing over to my left, I sigh, feeling suddenly drained. "We've only just met."

"Well it's a good job I already feel a connection with you, then."

I stare at him in surprise but he just looks steadily back at me, tilting his head as an indication for me to speak. When he does so, a strand of his blond hair falls onto his forehead and I find it hard to grasp any words.

"This shouldn't be happening," is all I can manage.

"Why's that?"

My blood runs cold the instant I hear James' voice, and he steps over to block my vision, taking away the light and covering me with the darkness of his shadow. Mirroring his actions towards Victoria, he kneels down and positions himself a few inches away from my face. His warm breath fans my cheek and his dark eyes bore into mine; I also feel a painful pressure on my leg and, after flickering my eyes down there, I realise that it's the gun.

It's suddenly difficult to breathe, and my chest rises and falls frantically in an attempt to get air.

Each one could be my last breath.

"Did you not _hear_ me?" He presses the gun harder down onto my leg with each syllable and I wince, feeling the cold barrel against my skin. "Why shouldn't this be happening?"

I want to say so much, to scream and claw at him, but nothing comes out; my lips just won't co-operate and they keep shaking.

"Why do you think?"

Carlisle's voice makes me jump and I half-expect everything to implode.

James' eyes flash over to him and they narrow dangerously. He's locked onto his next target like a predator taunting its prey and I suddenly want the attention back on me; I can barely bear to think of Carlisle getting hurt, and that puzzles me.

Perhaps he's right about us connecting; the thought of him being in any kind of pain makes me feel sick.

I vaguely wonder if he feels the same way.

Then the fact that there's a man pointing a gun at him hits me like a punch to the stomach and I protest without even thinking. "Don't, _please_!" They both turn to face me and a menacing grin crawls onto James' face, while Carlisle's eyes just widen even further in disbelief.

"Oh, you can speak now?" the predator sneers. "Defending your boyfriend, eh?"

I swallow and try to find some words. "You s-shouldn't be doing this."

"Oh, really?" The gun presses down against my leg once again and I think helplessly back to how normal things were just under an hour ago. "I'm the one who's in control here."

"You've got no right deciding who lives and dies," I say in a rush, regretting each word just a little too late. "You're not God," I add limply. After stealing a quick glance at Carlisle, I see that he looks horrified; his eyes are wide, staring at me intensely.

I've really over-stepped the line this time; it's always been a habit of mine but now it could be the last time I ever do it.

When he starts to raise the gun, I close my eyes and focus on the images flicking rapidly through my mind; I think of my parents, of all my friends that I've drifted out of contact with, of the man next door that I've never bothered talking to who always looks so depressed and lonely...

The regrets just won't stop attacking me.

"This really is _fun._"

James laughs darkly and I slowly open my achingly raw eyes to look around; he's moved away from us and the gun is now back in Victoria's direction. I shouldn't feel relief, but it's the most dominant emotion that overcomes me. I chew on the inside of my lip and try to stop myself from breaking down.

My chest hurts, my eyes are stinging, my throat is raw, and my stomach is in knots of anxiety that will take a long time to be untangled.

I'm not normally this selfish.

"Don't do that again."

Carlisle speaks once more and, when I carefully turn towards him, I see that his eyes actually seem to be blazing with a hint of anger. It makes another shiver travel across my skin and give him a confused frown. "I helped you," I whisper.

"You might have gotten yourself killed," he replies frantically.

"I could say the same for you!"

He sighs and shakes his head. "I guess we're even, then. Just don't do anything reckless that might end up hurting you... I couldn't deal with that."

"Why not?" I can't help asking and wait curiously for his answer; speaking to this man brings a small moment of relief that I need to savour and cling to.

I might be imagining it - it wouldn't be surprising giving the circumstances - but a little pink flushes his cheeks. Is that because...? No, of course it's not because of me; it's because there's a mad gunman in the same room who could shoot at any moment.

Whenever it's put like that, my stomach seems to flip over and spread nausea through my entire body.

"Because, Bella, I... I have this instinct to protect you."

He speaks in a rush and I can only nod numbly. I don't know how to feel.

All I know is that I have to trust this stranger so that all of us innocent victims can somehow make it out of here alive.

Not much to ask, then.


	5. Chapter Four

**Fix You**

_Chapter Four_

Carlisle's POV

I should be worrying about whether I'll see my wife again. I should be picturing her face and not Bella's.

But I can't help it; it's almost as though this stranger has completely consumed me and my thoughts. I've even confessed to her that I somehow already feel connected and every time she glances over at me with her face full of fear, it makes my stomach turn light.

For the briefest of seconds my mind wanders without warning, and I wonder if anything at all will happen between us if we escape this ordeal with our lives.

I know I'm being irrational and ridiculous. The responsibility can't be placed on me, though; I blame the fact that we're in the presence of an unstable gun-wielding lunatic.

And besides, I'm happily married. Of course I am. As well as that, Bella probably has a partner, beautiful as she is.

Yet, considering all of this, she's still somehow helping me to survive so far, in a way. Whenever I look at her, my thoughts are taken away from where we really are; it's both the sweetest and most painful relief.

I'm terrified for her. Terrified for all of the victims here, actually, but mostly for Bella. As a doctor I've become almost immune to the heartbreak of death over the years, yet she's had the torture of having to witness a murder just a few feet away from her eyes, and I fear that it's deeply shaken her. Of course it would do that to any normal person, but the look on her face when she'd managed to glance in my direction had made me turn cold. It was as though her thoughts were miles away, constantly replaying what she'd just seen. It'd haunt her for the rest of her life and I want nothing more than to take that burden away from her.

Knowing I'm powerless to do so crushes me once more.

I look over to the woman causing this inner turmoil and watch how she just stares silently down at her hands, seemingly fascinated by them. Her skin has turned paler than it was before and I fear that she may be suffering from shock.

We probably all are.

"James, _please_, I don't understand why you're acting like this..."

Victoria words come tumbling out of her mouth suddenly before she can even try to stop them, and the regret mixed with fear is plain on her face. Yet, despite this, somebody has to have the courage to speak and she's being bravely persistent.

We need to calm this man down somehow, find out his true motives and reasons, and Victoria seems to be the person most capable of doing that.

I'm just praying that she doesn't get harmed in the process; never before have I wanted to believe in miracles more than I do now.

"For God's sake, Victoria, we've been through all this shit before! Are you just too goddamn thick to realise that?"

I notice that tears are making their way down her cheeks and, glancing quickly at Bella, I see her face crumpled with sympathy.

"Can't you just tell me so that I can make it right?"

"Make it _right_? Now you're just deluded! You cheated on me! _Cheated_ on me because you're a dirty s-"

"I didn't!" she protests passionately. "James, I told you that it was over between us before that even happened! It wasn't-"

"Shut up!" His angry voice demands obedience and the gun in his hand reinforces that fact. "Just shut the hell up or I'll blow your head off! I'm sick to death of your lies!" As the force and threat of these words sinks in, her shoulders sag in defeat. Surely she can't give up so easily?

"Please just... just let these other people go at least!" she persists and my faith in her is given a small boost. "They're innocent! We can deal with this together, _alone_!"

Instead of exploding with rage as I expect him to, James' eyes dangerously scan the room, first looking at Bella, then at me - it feels as though his stare burns a hole through me and I can't seem to breathe the whole time - and he then moves on to the two young girls in the corner who I'd ashamedly forgotten about.

"Alright then," he says finally, leaning casually against the table. "You can save... hmm, yeah, you can save two. Go on, take your pick."

Her eyes widen with horror and I frown; I'm no expert when it comes to hostages, but surely he'd want to keep as many as possible here with him? The man's a complete mystery and I'm struggling to figure out his thought process. Maybe he wants to make this as torturous for Victoria as possible? Or maybe he thinks he can keep control better with fewer people?

"I... I c-can't, I-"

"You wanted to," he jeers, a sly smile crawling onto his face. "Who will it be...?"

Somewhere deep down, I'm hoping that she'll say Bella. Bella and myself.

That's awfully selfish of me.

"You should s-save the youngest here," Bella says after a long, intense silence. "It's not fair, they've g-got a whole life ahead of them to lead. Either pick one of them and C-Carlisle, or both of them. Please."

Everyone's eyes in the room fall on her, but her expression doesn't falter; she shows determination and compassion despite what's happening, and I feel something towards her that I can't quite place.

James stares at her for a long time, probably trying to figure her out; perhaps he doesn't understand that some people can be completely selfless and thoughtful, putting others before themselves. Bella is a perfect example of that, and I'm still struggling to believe it; how, by chance, have I come across somebody who is so ideal in my eyes?

"Well, looks like it's decided then." James turns to the two young girls and heads slowly over, completely taking his time and relishing in his power. When his back's turned to us, I turn to glance at Bella and give her a questioning look. During the process, I notice that she's shaking a little more than before; how did she manage to suppress that when talking to the threat that was causing it?

There are lots of things I'd like to know about her.

"What?" she manages to ask eventually, her voice barely a whisper.

"You could have saved yourself."

Her eyebrows raise for a brief moment. "You already promised that you'd do that for me."

My heart feels heavy in my chest; she's right. "I did. And... and I will."

She doesn't reply; her gaze just wanders up and we watch the hysterical young girls crying together. It still seems illogical to let them go, even though I'm pleased somewhere deep down; surely they'd go and tell somebody what was happening? Then the police would get involved and perhaps James would react even more dangerously...

He probably wants that to happen.

He hasn't seemed to register this, though, and he leads the girls quietly to the door. "If you tell anybody," he begins, speaking just an inch or two away from their tear-stained faces, "you'll just make this a hell of a lot worse. Whatever happens, these lot are all gonna die, anyway; you tell and you'll make that happen even faster. Just be grateful you've got away with your fucking lives."

They both stare at him blankly, clearly battling with indecision.

"Actually, it might be fun if this turns into a whole police-hostage situation... feel free to tell if you want, it should be a laugh," he smirks. "I'll get even more attention. Do it, I dare you. But look at these people..." He sweeps his arm holding the gun across the room and the girls don't make eye contact with any of us. "They're gonna die for you. Keep that in your minds."

Before we can even blink, he opens the door and shoves them out roughly. I vaguely hear horrified sobbing, followed by rapid footsteps that soon disappear and leave us in the silence once again.

"Soooo," he continues, heading slowly back towards Victoria, "what shall we do now, _babe_?"

"You can let everyone else go," she says quietly and he grabs her by the hair.

"That's not an option." After circling around us like some kind of shark, he adds, "I think it's about time we had a little chat, actually. In private." Without any hesitation, he begins to remove the duct tape from the chair and yanks Victoria upright and away from the corpse beside her. Her hands are still secure behind her back as he pulls her away towards another room. Before shutting the door behind them, he turns to stare at Bella and myself.

"If any of you two do anything that you're not supposed to, _anything_, then you're dead."

Then the door closes and we're left alone.

Neither of us say anything for a few moments; the sound of our mismatched breathing fills the silent room.

"He'll hear us if we t-try to move," Bella finally whispers. "We're just helpless like... like sitting ducks!"

When my gaze moves naturally over to her I see that her eyes are frantic and the shaking has returned. I feel an overwhelming instinct to reach over and touch her, to tell her that everything will be okay, but I'm powerless to do so.

And besides, making another promise which I'm not sure if I can keep is surely an unwise action.

"Bella? Bella, look at me." It's as though the words mean nothing; she just continues to stare blankly into space. "Bella, please _look_ at me."

As if it takes all her strength, she finally pulls her attention to me and I try to convey to her what I'm thinking.

"You're gonna tell me it'll all be fine but it's not!" she says in a rush. "He's gonna shoot us and we'll end up like the poor man who is rotting away beside me!"

Everything she says is drenched with despair and fear. Without considering the consequences, I use all my power to move towards her and, somehow, our shoulders end up touching. This small amount of contact provides me with some relief, despite how cold she feels, and Bella just looks at me blankly.

"Carlisle, I'm sorry. I..." My eyes follow the path her tears take down her cheeks as she struggles to find how to finish. "My life felt so m-monotonous and boring just earlier today and I was complaining about it... I'd give anything to be back in my bathroom grimacing at the cold water coming from my shower."

"I know, I know."

"Why is this happening to us?" she continues, her eyebrows furrowing together with confusion. "Why _him_?" Her eyes flicker to the body that's been lifeless for too long, way before it's time. "I thought there was meant to be some justice. It's-"

"Bella, please calm down and breathe, you're looking incredibly unwell," I warn, but she just scoffs.

"Unwell? I wonder _why_! What a stupid thing to say!" She sighs after a moment and the guilt is clear on her face; she's too kind-hearted to be bitter. "I'm sorry, Carlisle. That was uncalled for."

"It's perfectly understandable."

"No, I shouldn't take it out on you." Without warning, she lurches forward in a desperate attempt to free herself.

"Bella, you should save your energy. Bella, please stop."

"Save my energy for what?" she asks, her eyes land on mine again.

"For when we get a chance to get out of here," I say, lowering my voice conspiratorially.

"Have you got some sort of plan?" The hope flickers in her eyes and causes them to somehow become alive for the briefest of moments; the life contrasts from the grey colour of her skin and I feel a pain in my chest about letting her down.

"Not yet."

Hearing this, she lumps back against the table. "I don't know why I'm putting my trust into you."

"Just give me a chance and you might find out."

"We might not have the _time_ for chances."

"Tell me about yourself." It doesn't seem possible that her eyes can widen even further, but they do as she looks towards me in confusion at my random question. "_What_?"

"I said tell me about yourself," I repeat calmly. "We need to take our minds off what's happening."

"And that's going to help how...?"

"Would you rather sit here doing nothing and thinking about what might happen or have some kind of decent conversation instead?"

She doesn't look convinced. "I'd probably bore you to death. Although that's not the kind of thing I should be joking about under these circumstances."

I notice that her voice seems a little calmer and continue, wanting to make her better. "I'm interested. Go on."

"No, _really_," she turns to me and the ghost of a smile lingers on her lips, "I've got the most boring life ever, but I'd give anything to have it back." Her voice falters and, after a brief pause, she adds, "I had no social life, I was pathetic... I really should have made the most out of it."

Her regretful tone makes me turn cold. "Why the past tense?"

"Well it's ending here today, isn't it?" She seems oddly stoical, as if she's accepted her fate without a fight. "I've been so _stupidly_ ungrateful and now know what I've been missing. It's flaming painful!"

"It's certainly put my life into perspective," I admit. "And it's not necessarily ending here today, Bella."

"It seems likely! I mean he-"

Bella never finishes her sentence; she's cut off by the loud and terribly familiar sound of the gun firing in the other room. Everything turns silent, eerily so, and we both wait with pounding hearts to see if another life has cruelly ended.


	6. Chapter Five

**Fix You**

_Chapter Five_

Bella's POV

No, no, no, not somebody else, _please_... not Victoria.

This is horrific.

No, that's not even a strong enough word. There aren't words.

I thought the nightmare couldn't possibly get any worse, that it's already been awful enough, but now it has. It somehow has.

James was right when he said that we were all going to die and, in all honesty, the thought of somebody like Carlisle having his life taken away prematurely is simply heartbreaking. It's cruel, unjust.

The world would be robbed.

But, saying that, maybe there's some kind of afterlife. That hope which I'm clinging to furiously could make this a tiny bit more bearable.

Then again, if there was, it's not like I'd go to Heaven with him. I've tried my hardest to change, to be forgiven, but it's like a plaster covering a wound; it's still there, just hidden. I promised myself that it'd heal, but it never really has. There's still a scar.

The thoughts keep circling around repeatedly in my head like sharks; it's maddening.

It's totally true what they say; during times when your life is in danger you turn all philosophical and think about all your mistakes.

"Bella, _Bella_?"

A frantic voice pulls me out of my thoughts and I somehow manage to focus on Carlisle's face. His eyes are bright and alert and full of fear.

That's not good considering he seemed so calm before.

"Bella, you need to take some long, deep breaths, please just do it for me." I look at him in confusion and try to speak, but nothing comes out. It's as though my body has stopped responding already in preparation.

"You're starting to hyperventilate, Bella; you need to listen to me and _breathe_. Try to forget about what's happening and focus on yourself."

Now that he's mentioned it, I realise just how difficult it is to take in air; my chest feels tight and every breath I take feels worthless, as though my throat is clogged up with tissue paper.

"Just look at me and try to calm yourself down."

I obey him, putting all my trust in his doctor's instincts. Nothing else seems to matter in this moment; it's just us two looking at one another, trying to keep each other going. It seems painful that I've wasted too much time not looking at his eyes; they really seem to show what he's feeling.

It's too soon to be falling, though, surely? Why does someone so special have to appear in circumstances as horrid as these?

Slowly, though, despite my worried thoughts, it gets easier. The air reaches my lungs and brings sweet relief, and the dizziness and sickness gradually disappears.

Then I remember where we are and what's happening.

"He can't have k-killed her," I stammer, once again attacked by images of the dead body beside me. It's like the man's eyes are burned into my mind, and the feeling of his warm blood that's now turned cold will always stay with me.

"We'll just have to hope so."

It's turned eerily quiet in the other room and I turn to whisper to Carlisle, suddenly struck once more by his beauty. His hair manages to look oddly appealing even when it's ruffled and messy. Before I can let those thoughts take over, I shake my head and check myself. This isn't really the time or the place.

Then again, we may not ever be in the right time or place again...

"This, um, this m-might be my last chance to say this..." His eyebrows knit together in a frown during my pause. "But... but thank you for everything you've d-done; you've made this more b-bearable. I-"

My voice breaks towards the end as a sign of my weakness and I close my eyes despairingly to be surrounded by darkness. Carlisle's voice somehow weaves its way through and makes my heart beat faster. "Bella, you mustn't speak like that. We can't give up."

I can feel his eyes somehow sizzlng into my side and turn to look at him; he looks somehow determined. "Carlisle, I..."

The words disappear into nothing as the sound of the door being thrown up grips our attention; it brings back fresh memories of how this ordeal first started. I'm fully expecting to see James dragging in Victoria's body like a rag doll, but my stomach turns light with a powerful relief when I see her crawling on the floor behind him.

She's hurt, but she's alive. That's something.

Without hesitation, tears flood my eyes and flow down my cheeks at the sight of her; there's no blood, so perhaps the gun shot was a false alarm to taunt us all, a warning of what could happen, but it looks as though she's hurt on the inside under her skin, in more ways than one.

"Oh God," I whisper quietly, praying for once that there is one. Surely he could intervene and stop this horror from happening?

Like some kind of dog, Victoria makes her way back to where she was before and sits quietly, passively letting herself be tied back up. I dread to think what sort of dark things they talked about, what pain she endured, but now she just looks helpless, as though she too has given up.

It's a pitiful and awful sight.

"You should have heard the excuses she came up with," James suddenly sneers, smirking to himself. "No matter how many lies you tell, the truth always comes out in the end. You lose track of what's fact and what's fiction..."

He trails off suddenly, shaking his head, and we all sit in silence.

"You know what I saw? What made me do all this?" he spits, waving around the gun. No reply. "I walked into our own home, all ready to fucking _propose_, and I saw her in bed with my best friend. My _best friend_."

I turn to Victoria and she just weakly shakes her head, unable to protest any further.

"I should have known from the start that she'd turn my life to shit but she kept drawing me in, like the fucking Devil. All women are like it." His mad stare turns to me and it's almost like I can see the hatred burning there.

"They're not," Carlisle protests, and I feel my born turn cold again. This stress is too much to deal with. "I know some good people, you shouldn't assume that everybody's the same." I really wish he would stop... the gun in James' hand is quivering. "Why are you punishing us for this?"

I can see his jaw locking and unlocking like a vice. "You two need to shut the _hell_ up! I've never asked for your fucking opinion and you won't stop going on like fucking parrots... you think you're always right, but I'm in charge here. _Me_."

"We know," I whisper despairingly.

"Yeah? Show me, then, and keep your traps _shut_."

He begins circling the room again and I notice how the sweat is beginning to saturate his shirt and how his face is slowly turning redder; is his anger really that intense? He must have really cared for Victoria to have reacted this badly.

Surely he wouldn't want to hurt her...?

My mind begins ticking away; even though everything feels sluggish, I try to recall the few crime programmes I've watched on TV in the past. They always used to be so good at negotiating with criminals, using psychology and whatever...

But I'm not trained at any of that. It's hopeless.

And if I even try, he's likely to respond with kindly shooting a bullet into my body.

"You know what? This is getting boring now," James suddenly grunts, hurrying around like a dangerous hyperactive child. "I'm not gonna waste anymore time here. It's gone on long enough." He disappears through a door and we all look at each other in confusion and panic; what's he got planned now?

"Carlisle..." I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Bella, I'm really sorry that I've let you down, but I... I just don't know what to do anymore," he stumbles. It all comes out in a rush and my body turns even colder; is this a sign that it's all truly over now because Carlisle has surrendered too? The sight of him looking so lost causing a sharp pain in my chest and I try to hold back the pain.

"But..."

"I'm sorry, it was stupid of me to make a promise which I had no way of being sure that I could keep... Bella, I'm _so_ sorry."

I stare at him wordlessly; I thought he had a plan? Wasn't he supposed to get us out of here?

It was probably foolish of me to put so much trust and faith in a stranger. I'll never learn.

James storms back in and, mistakenly, I meet his eyes, and it's as though something has snapped. The fury in his face looks so powerful, so out of control, and the breath catches in my throat.

Slowly, he takes a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, taking deep breaths as though he's calming himself for something that's about to happen.

That's not a good sign.

This really does feel like my last chance to do something. I've got to.

"James, p-please I'm sure Victoria never meant to-"

I never finish. He pulls out the gun at a terrifying speed and that's when everything changes. It all happens in some strange blur. Some strange, horrifying blur.

A familiar deafening sound fills the room and everything slows down.

Then there's this most incredible and shocking impact which takes my breath away, and my head jerks backwards to hit the table. That pain is lost, though, because it feels as though a bomb has exploded inside of me, and everything seems to move in an even slower motion.

My vision blurs, my hearing is as though I'm listening to someone shouting from underwater, and the pain is just... it's white, searing, blinding, _agony_.

Am I on fire?

I don't even know if I'm breathing anymore.

Something feels warm and wet on my right leg, and I vaguely register seeing a pool of red beside me.

When the truth hits me, the pain surges in one final powerful burst.

I've been shot.

Oh my _God_, I've been shot.

I turn to Carlisle, horrified and barely conscious, and I see the outline of his face; the features have all merged into one and I blink furiously, trying to get a clearer picture that I can keep for my last moments.

It's not _working_. Why isn't it _working_?

I want to move; I want to reach over and cling to Carlisle to say goodbye, but my body feels paralysed; if I even try to move, the hot pain completely consumes my senses, dragging me closer to the end.

Fear is the next thing to take over; I never had a chance to be forgiven.

In my hysteria, I begin to imagine the smell of gasoline and burning, and I wonder if I've already gone to Hell.

That's the last thought I have. I try desperately to clutch onto life, however torturous it may be, but the pain is just too much. A strangled sob escapes from my lips, and then everything disappears, leaving me on my own.


	7. Chapter Six

**Fix You**

_Chapter Six_

Carlisle's POV

This can't be happening. I must be hallucinating... yes, maybe I'm just imagining things. No reasonable person would make something like this take place.

No, this definitely can't be happening to Bella, not my Bella. It's not fair, she doesn't deserve it.

_No_...

Yet, however much I may try to convince myself otherwise, I can't escape the truth; it's stupid trying to.

Bella's been... she's been _shot_ and her precious blood is everywhere. The frustrating thing is, I know exactly how to help her; I need to put pressure on the wound, to make sure that she's still breathing and that she's not even further in shock, but I'm once again powerless to do anything. It's the most painful sensation.

I'm normally a calm person, but I want nothing more right now than to punch my fist straight through a wall.

"Bella?" I try, desperately clinging to any small piece of hope that says she still has some chance. I'm not completely sure where she was wounded, but it seems as though it was towards the bottom left hand side of her torso. That's not the worst that could have happened; if it had been further up...

It's best not to think of that.

"Bella?" I persist. "Please speak to me? _Please_?"

"It's no use," Victoria mumbles weakly, meeting my eyes with a sorry expression. It looks as though she's given up any positive thoughts. "There's n-nothing we can do anymore. He's won."

I try to ignore the fact that James is recklessly throwing gasoline from a random tank he's retrieved; he's coating the surfaces of the tables where people had happily been having coffee before, as well as covering most of the wooden floor. The smell stings my nose and burns the back of my throat.

We're not going to stand a chance.

I begin repeatedly praying for something out there to help us. _Anything, please._

"Think of all the memories we've had in this shop, James," Victoria tries, clearly clutching at anything to try to stop what he's doing, despite her reserved tone before. A small part of me admires her. "We p-put so much money and effort into it, you can't just let it go up in flames!"

"I can, and I will," he grins, heading towards the back where the counter is. I'm guessing there's another door there that he'll weave out of, escaping the pain, destruction and grief that he's so easily caused with a second thought. The expression on his face doesn't even falter as he stares at us. "See you all in Hell!"

"James, _please_?"

Victoria's screams go unnoticed; we both have our necks twisted around to watch him and everything seems to move slowly as he drops his cigarette onto the floor and then disappears.

Almost instantly my vision is filled with flames, bright orange and dangerous, and I desperately try to free myself from my confines. Using so much force that it aches, I try to pull my legs apart, but nothing gives. I kick the floor in frustration and turn suddenly at the sound of choking beside me.

Bella's stirring.

Oh _no_... not now.

"Bella? Bella, you-"

My voice trails off at the sight of the pain etched onto her face; it's consumed her features and distorted them evilly. Her eyes are scrunched together in agony, her jaw is clenched tight, and I fight against the duct tape even harder than before. For a moment I'm distracted by flashing lights outside, but quickly dismiss it as my imagination, and I try even harder, for Bella's sake; just for her.

"_Ahh_..."

A tortured sound and sobbing escapes from Bella as the fire begins devouring everything in its path; strangely James hasn't spread gasoline around us so we still have room for manevoure, but it won't take long until-

No, I can't think that.

The smoke is really beginning to fill the air around us now; everything is distorted by a thick black cover, and I wish that we could slide downwards to avoid the worst of it. No, screw that, I wish we could all be out of here alive and safe.

"C-Carlisle... I..." Bella's voice is broken off by her hoarse coughing and I shudder to think of her pain. Each breath must be causing more agony to erupt from the bullet wound. "You..."

"Don't try to speak," I tell her. "Save your breath _please_!"

"But I-"

There's suddenly a loud noise by the front doors, a frightening parallel of what happened when this first started. I watch as it suddenly tumbles through and some men dressed in uniform storm in towards us, all in a fast movement that's hard to register.

Oh thank God, thank _God_. My prayers have been answered.

Just please don't make this be a dream.

"Please, help her, she's... she's been shot," I manage, surprised by how gruff my voice sounds. "Please."

"It's okay, sir, you're safe now; just try to stay calm."

It all happens in some strange blur; they hack away at the duct tape, easily setting us free, and then carefully escort us out from the flames. Somebody must have informed them about what was happening; perhaps a passer-by heard some noises or saw the smoke?

Maybe the girls who were allowed to escape earlier decided to do the right thing.

When the light from outside hits my eyes, it brings an almost blinding pain and I squint, trying to block it out. The fresh, clean lungfuls of air that I breathe in greedily bring a short relief, and the ache in my chest from the retching brings tears down my cheeks, but I know that I won't be able to fully relax until I know that Bella is alright.

The paramedics frantically attend to her and I try to push my way through, against their advice. It begins to cause an unnatural anger to burn inside of me, something that I try to suppress; they're helping her, I need to remember that.

"I'm a d-doctor..." I protest, trying to make them hear me. "Please, I'm a _doctor_!"

"Yes, sir," a man nods, giving me a disapproving look, "but you've been through a lot of trauma too - we need to ensure that you're not-"

"I'm_ fine_, please just let me see her!"

"Sir, really-"

"For Christ's sake, please at least let me ride with her to the hospital and then I'll back off."

We meet eyes and I try to silently beg him to conform. He's a very muscular man and I feel that perhaps I shouldn't aggravate him too much, but that's the least of my problems; if he says no, I'll just have to force my way through. There's no way I'm leaving Bella.

Despite this, though, he eventually sighs in defeat. "Okay, but you need to do as your told when you get there-" I'm already hurrying off into the back of the ambulance before he can even finish. "You know the procedures!"

I just nod numbly and sit beside Bella who looks worryingly pale; it's like the life is being slowly drained from her, and the radiant glow that had been there so many hours ago seems like a distant memory. Her eyes are fluttering to every corner of the ambulance; she can't seem to focus on one thing, but perhaps that's for the best. It wouldn't be good for her if she saw the blood that's covering her jumper.

"Carlisle..."

I'm surprised that she recognises me in her dazed state but, nevertheless, I reach for her hand and grip it firmly. It feels so_ cold_. "Bella, you're going to be okay. I... hey, I told you we'd get out."

She just stares at me wordlessly for a moment. "Did you..." It takes a lot of effort for Bella to force what she wants to say out and I try to tell her to save her energy, but she insists on finishing. "Did you g-get hurt?"

My eyes widen in surprise as I look down at her; she's gravely injured, just been through a horrendous ordeal, and she's asking how_ I_ am?

There just aren't words for this woman.

"Bella, I'm fine... thank you, but_ please_ focus on yourself."

"Is something on f-fire?"

"No, Bella, not anymore." She must be having flashbacks and I search for something to reassure her. "Don't worry, you'll be able to rest soon in a clean, comfortable bed, so just... just try to relax."

"Where's J-James?"

"He's gone now, don't worry." That's a good question; I bloody well hope they've caught him. He should be tortured for what he's done to everybody involved. I'd happily-

"But..."

"Bella, please keep calm; we need to make sure you're okay first."

"Please d-don't leave me, Carlisle..."

"I'm not going to, Bella, I promise." It strikes me how insecure she seems; it's probably from her panic, but there could be some other underlying cause. Is she afraid of people leaving her?

"Please, I'm scared..." Her small, weak voice really shows her fear and I see in her eyes that the spark really is gone, replaced by nothing but worry.

What else can I do besides talking to her? She's almost delirious and nothing I say seems to comfort her in any way.

It suddenly occurs to me, out of the blue, that our friends and family need to know what's happened... crap.

That includes Esme...

Why has she not crossed my mind?

I suppose, deep down, I already know the answer to that question.

The ambulance suddenly slows to a halt and the doors fly open; we're met by a flurry of different paramedics and it suddenly feels overwhelming; I should be accustomed to the hectic nature of hospitals, especially accidents and emergencies, but when it happens to somebody I care about so much... it really feels horrific.

"Please be careful with her," I murmur, keeping hold of Bella's hand as they move her. "Please she's-"

"Sir, we know what we're doing," an impatient man mutters, and I restrain my irritation. "Miss Swan is in good hands now. You'll have to wait in this area to be examined by a doctor. Sir please don't-"

"I can't just sit around when I know there's nothing wrong with me!" I reply, perhaps a little louder than appropriate because a few curious stares turn our way. "I-"

"Carlisle," a weak voice murmurs; it's Bella. "Please, do as they s-say. I'll be okay."

That's convinced nobody, we both know it, but we stare at each other silently. Nodding, I gradually fall behind as they hurry her away to the emergency room.

There's a powerful urge to sink to the floor, but I head over to the reception and ask to use the telephone instead.

"Sir, don't you need to be checked over first?" the woman behind the desk asks. "There's-"

"Please, I need to make a phone call." The patience I've often boasted to retain is slowly wearing thin, and she clearly sees this as she directs me to the left. "Thank you."

As I begin to dial my home number, I think through what exactly I can say. I don't want to panic Esme; it just needs to be short and brief...

With a sigh, I wait for her to answer. It takes a while, but she eventually gets to the phone, sounding breathless. "Hello?"

"Hi Esme, it's Carlisle."

"Carlisle, hello darling. Is something wrong? You don't usually call this time."

"I don't want you to worry, but... something's happened. I'm fine, but I'm at the hospital."

There's a small pause. "Have they called you in to do an extra shift?"

"No, I was... there's no easy way to say this, but I was involved in a hostage situation and there was a fire-"

"Hostage? Carlisle, I... oh my _goodness_! Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm perfectly fine," I reply, suppressing a sigh and watching with a cold, heavy stomach as a group of doctors rush around the corner. "Just bring yourself to the hospital and you'll see that I'm unharmed."

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can! Goodness me!"

The line goes dead and I lean against the wall, thinking. Why was-

Then I remember that Bella's health is uncertain and I turn towards the receptionist. "Excuse me, is there are news on Bella Swan?"

"Were you involved in the hostage situation with her?"

"Yes," I grunt impatiently, and her strangely icy blue eyes scan my body.

"Sir, you clearly need to be seen by a doctor and it would be incredibly convenient if you could please wait in the allotted area in the mean time. Please, _sir_-" she says with more emphasis, knowing that I've opened my mouth to interrupt, "there's nothing else I can do. If there was any news I would pass it on, but clearly it's been too soon. A doctor will see you shortly."

And with that, she turns away to answer the phone.

"For God's sake!" My hands ball up in frustration. This is so unlike how I usually act, but there's something that just won't leave me alone until I see Bella again, alive and well.

A sudden thought comes into my mind and begins spreading like wildfire. Maybe that's not an appropriate metaphor considering what's just happened, but it seems fitting; seeing as I work here, I could easily just go to my office and-

"Sir?"

I turn around to be met by a fellow doctor who I recognise as Eric Yorkie standing with two police men, looking at me seriously. I remain silent.

"Dr Cullen, I'm going to need to examine you for any injuries and then these two officers will need to ask you some questions regarding the incident." Eric tells me this, but nothing really sinks in. This will delay me from helping Bella.

"But-"

"Please don't protest," one of the police men interjects. "It's important that you're checked for any damage and then we can determine how this happened."

"But I need to see my friend! This is wasting precious time - I'll tell you how this happened; it was because of a psychopath called James who was intent on having revenge on his partner! I suggest you use your time finding him instead of pointlessly questioning me!"

My face feels hot and I realise that my temper has been completely lost; my eyes widen as I reflect on the rudeness and I hastily begin apologising. "I'm really sorry, that was inappropriate of me. I-"

"It's perfectly understandable sir," the other officer adds, managing to keep a blank face. His eyes don't even show any emotion; I vaguely wonder if that's something which has happened from years' of experience of seeing this kind of event. "But you really do need to conform to the procedures or further action will be taken. Do you understand?"

Reservedly, I nod.

"Your friend will be taken care of," Eric assures me as we make our way to an examination room. "The doctors here are some of the best in the whole of Forks."

I have to smile wryly at his statement. "Well let's just say that, if anything goes wrong, I'll be straight in there doing everything I possibly can to put it right."

He shuts the door behind us and my head buzzes, trying to comprehend all the thoughts of what's been happening. It's insane.

"Who is your friend, anyway?" he asks while I sit restlessly on the bed.

"Bella Swan," I murmur, strangely enjoying being able to say her name. "We were taken hostage together."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like."

I move my head numbly in agreement and run my hands mindlessly through my hair. "But it brought us close. I feel..." The words just trail off as I try to search for them, but it's impossible. My head feels tangled with all kinds of feelings, images and sensations, but trying to make sense of the messy knots is something I'm not capable of doing quite yet.

"Just try to relax." He flashes a light in front of my eyes but I can't take his advice; I just want to sprint out of the room as fast as my legs can take me.

But that's out of the question, so I do as he asks and try not to think too much.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Fix You**

_Chapter Seven_

Bella's POV

I don't know whether I'm dreaming or not. Everything seems oddly blurry and distant, and the persistent heat around me makes nausea creep into my stomach.

That sickness is completely drowned out by the feeling of pain there, though. Actually, pain doesn't seem like the right word; it's not strong enough. The feeling is so much that it makes my eyes water, my thoughts turn to mush, my body become motionless.

I can see the outline of a person saying what I assume is my name and the sound of some voices laced with anger, but that disappears again as blackness surrounds me.

* * *

Just as suddenly as it disappeared, everything returns to me.

I feel more alert than before - how long ago that was, I don't know; maybe it was half an hour - and I remember everything with the force of a ton of bricks. I see Carlisle, masked with smoke, and an unrecognisable sound of agony rumbles from my lips.

In response, his face crumples. It's a sad sight.

I try saying his name, wondering if it'll be my last word, and that doesn't seem so bad. He tells me to save my breath, but it's so hard to force air into my lungs.

Everything suddenly becomes claustrophobic. What if the smoke takes up all the air? What if-

With one last protest, I drift once more.

* * *

We're moving.

I can feel it.

But, at the same time, I feel oddly numb.

Somebody's sitting beside me and, when I recognise the familiar blond hair and the friendly eyes, I suddenly feel safer. I could never forget him. "Carlisle..."

I can barely say his name, but it feels good doing so. He grips my hand and the warmth feels spectacular. We speak and, after the words leave my mouth, I find myself struggling to remember them. But whatever he says is comforting, as though he's some kind of safety blanket, and I cling onto every one.

God, I hope he doesn't leave me. I tell him so and he looks at me oddly; I pray beyond anything that I'm not being too clingy as I may have been in the past, but losing him when I need him most breaks my heart. It's selfish, but if he leaves I-

"I'm not going to, Bella, I promise."

And just like that, I believe him.

Then there's all kinds of movement again and bright light fills our space, breaking the idea that we could be alone together for as long as possible. Some people try to separate us and I feel my heart beginning to race, but I have to tell myself they're going to help me. This is good.

But, without Carlisle by my side, I feel oddly incomplete.

* * *

I'm inside and there are bright lights around me. Everything is hectic, as though time is running out. There are various people in blue overalls wearing masks and plastic gloves, and I presume that I'm about to have surgery.

Images of knives and blood flash through my head.

There's a frantic beeping above me and I realise that it's my heartbeat on the monitor.

"Try to keep calm," a voice tells me, and I want to listen but it's just words. Suddenly, there's a mask covering my face.

I want Carlisle so badly.

"Try to count backwards from ten, Miss Swan."

They're so cold and impersonal.

I only reach nine before I'm gone.

* * *

I'm conscious, but it seems too much effort to open my eyes. Firstly, I fear what I might find out when I do, and secondly I'm worried they may be sore and crusty.

Bearing this in mind, I sit silently for a while, just focusing on breathing and listening.

Oddly, I can feel somebody's presence by my right. Maybe it's a doctor. Maybe it's Carlisle.

Oh, he _is_ a doctor.

I smile to myself, and there's movement and noise. "Bella? Bella, I'm here. I said I wouldn't leave."

Knowing I have no choice, I slowly move my eyelids and the light comes flooding through. I blink wildly, trying to grow accustomed to the shock, and the familiar sight of Carlisle gradually becomes clear in front of me.

Goodness, he's beautiful.

I thought I'd never see him again and the tears spill out of my eyes at the relief.

"Car-" I begin, but my voice sounds raspy. Knowing this, he reaches over and carefully gets some water for me. He's also got a straw, a lovely touch, and he places it carefully into my mouth. After taking a few swallows, the ache in my throat disappears and I try again. "Carlisle, you're okay!"

"How are you feeling now?" he asks, handing me a tissue. My arm feels a little stiff as I raise it to my face, but I just about manage. Good, I'm not paralysed or anything horrifying like that.

"Kind of numb," I admit, pleased that I'm now sounding steady.

"That'll be the painkillers. There's an immense amount being pumped into you."

That makes me feel strangely squeamish, but I focus on his face instead. "Did you get hurt at all?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, only a little damage to my lungs and throat from the smoke inhalation, but that's nothing that can't be fixed." As I continue to look at him, I see how his eyes seem red, how he looks paler than usual and how he seems so tired.

"How long has it been since..." I trail off, not wanting to recall it quite yet, even though images are still flickering through my head without warning.

The lifeless eyes.

The flames.

"Three days," he replies and my eyes bug out.

"_Three days_?"

He nods. "You had an operation as soon as you got here to remove the bullet and repair the surrounding tissue that had been damaged. You were so lucky, Bella, they managed to save you just in time. If the bullet was a fraction upwards..." He breaks off. "Well, we might not be having this conversation. You had me so worried."

It seems like such a miracle that we've survived.

That reminds me. "Oh God, did Victoria...?"

"She's alive too," he smiles. "Cuts and bruises, a fractured wrist, but she's alive. I never thought we would be, despite what I said."

I try to ignore that; that was what had kept me going. "What about the two girls who escaped?"

All the expression seems to disappear from his face as I say this. Instinctively I try to sit forwards, but he quickly places me back down, warning me about my stitches. "The girls have been all over the news. They're giving twisted versions of what happened and it's... it's sickening. I'd rather not discuss them, to be perfectly honest, Bella. They're after a lot of attention."

"Okay," I reply, surprised and disgusted. "What about the poor man?" The image of his blood across the floor and on my clothes makes my heart pound faster. Thankfully I'm in some kind of hospital gown. "Do his family know...?"

"Yes, they were here." He seems to look ten years older as the pain and compassion he feels for the people shows on his face. "They know."

"It's so sad," I breathe, but that doesn't express what I want to say. "Have they caught James yet?"

He runs his hand through his hair and from the gesture I assume the answer's a negative. "No, not yet. But they've been questioning me about him and I've given the best description I can. They're probably going to want to speak with you as well, but only when you're in a fit state. I won't let them otherwise."

I nod, but my eyes are suddenly attracted to a figure I see standing by the doorway. It's a woman, a beautiful looking woman, with caramel hair curling perfectly around her shoulders and a pale complexion, just like Carlisle's. She's staring at him intently.

My body seems to run cold as I remember again. He's married.

It feels like something is shattered inside me. Maybe it's hope.

"Is that your wife?" I ask, surprised my voice even produces sound. He looks around quickly and nods, not looking at me. It seems as though he feels guilty for spending this time with me and I know he's gonna have to leave soon.

It's so distressing that the painkillers can't even block out what I feel.

Without warning, everything I'd been trying to forget comes back to the surface with more power than ever before and it feels like I'm drowning. My eyes close, but the pictures are still there in my vision, taunting me.

It's as though I'm back in the room, with the bullet inside me and the flames around us.

"Bella! Bella!" A voice breaks through and I feel something on my face. My eyes open and I see Carlisle inches away from me, staring at me with fear in his eyes.

It feels hard to breathe, but looking at him makes it a little easier. Times moves sluggishly, but slowly I come back to reality. I take in the scene around me once more, trying to familiarise myself.

I must have had a panic attack.

Carlisle says this out loud and I swallow, trying to get some moisture in my dry mouth. I nod, agreeing with what he said. "I... I've... I've had them in the p-past. S-Sorry, it all b-became too m-much."

"It's okay. You're safe now."

His words would need to be a lot more powerful to convince me.

I have a horrible feeling these memories will be with me for a hell of a long time.

* * *

I don't know what day or time it is when I wake up next, but the first thing I register is Carlisle talking with his wife outside, and I close my eyes to block it out straight away.

Why is there always something out there to ruin my chance at happiness?

I'd felt so special when we'd gotten talking, but he was already taken.

Surely there was a drug of some kind to stop people from thinking? I just can't stop imagining myself being back at the cafe, and I want to escape to a world where everything is easy, where there's no trauma.

Those dark thoughts sicken me and plague me.

But I just want out.

Either that, or Carlisle.

I take one more look at him and, as I see closely, it seems that he looks angry. His wife suddenly storms away in a quick breeze and a brief moment of satisfaction warms me.

He heads back inside the room and forces a smile at me, something which makes me even more uneasy.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

"We just had an argument," he sighs, looking more tired than ever before. "She thinks I should be resting at home."

That's probably true; he shouldn't be doing any harm to himself by staying here. I tell him this and he just exhales heavily.

"Bella, I want to stay until I know that you're okay again. Call it selfish, but I can't help it. Esme can't seem to understand that."

I stare at him silently, trying to comprehend his words. He's staying here because of me?

Maybe he feels guilty.

Or maybe... just maybe, he cares.

Even though it's incredibly pessimistic, I can't help thinking forward to when I get better. Will that be the end of what's happened between us? Will we move apart and never see each other again? Will my only memories of him be of our ordeal?

It's heartbreakingly cruel.

I want to tell him not to ever leave, but that's selfish of me. It might effect his marriage and his happiness.

Yet, why is there an overwhelming urge to do so? To beg?

I try to stop thinking about it, knowing it might make me more ill, but then I wonder if that's what I really want; if I stay unwell, Carlisle will never leave me.

That's an awful way to think and I'm repulsed with myself. Some people in my situation would give anything to get better.

I'll just have to make the most of his precious company and somehow find a way to survive when he's gone.

But those words fill me with sickness and fear, and I wonder if I'll cope. He was the reason I got through the trauma.

The torment is clearly too overwhelming and I slip into unconsciousness once more.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Fix You**

_Chapter Eight_

Carlisle's POV

Conflicted is a word that's used broadly nowadays, but it perfectly sums up how I feel right now.

I'm sitting in a hospital, a place that's become some twisted kind of second home of late, waiting for somebody who means an irrational amount to me to get better. To a stranger, it_ sounds_ like the right thing to do, as though I'm being a good Samaritan.

But my wife strongly disagrees.

At first, she understood that I wanted to ensure that Bella's condition was improving. She'd nodded when I intitially told her everything that had happened, sympathy and horror mixed on her tired face. She told me that what I wanted to do was normal; she kept repeatedly saying she understood, she_ understood_.

That's not true. Nobody could ever understand what Bella, myself and a small group of unfortunate individuals had to endure.

Only we will have the memories engrained in our mind for the rest of our lives.

I'm desperately afraid that Bella has been deeply traumatised. Whenever I look at her, during the short periods that she's conscious, I sense that her eyes aren't really taking me in; in her mind, she's back in the room having the gun pointed at her.

It's a miracle that she survived.

I know that she'll need help. She's like a bomb, about to go off. It won't be long now.

Yet Esme can't seem to grasp this concept. She tells me that I have to leave her now, to let go and get on with my own life. Apparently I need to recover and act as though it never happened.

That's quite difficult to do when there are police, news reporters and curious individuals everywhere I seem to turn. Our names have become common knowledge in this small town and now the attention is becoming overwhelming.

It appears things won't be normal again.

But, being disillusioned as she is, Esme seems to think it will. In all honesty, it's been making my blood boil.

The bond which had been holding us together before was already strained enough, but after this whole nightmare, it seems as though it's close to snapping.

Whenever we interact, I try to say as little as possible. Normally I give just a curt nod. It seems forced to do anything else.

Maybe it's disrespectful and rude, but quite frankly she isn't my top priority right now.

Even thinking that sounds horrible.

I peek through the window to Bella's room and see that she's sleeping, twitching every now and then because of her dreams. It's been two weeks now since _it _happened and, physically, she's slowly improving. There were no complications during the surgery – the most stressful few hours in my life, bar the obvious – and everything had gone smoothly. It was such good fortune that the bullet had been where it was; it sounds clichéd, but if it were anywhere else, then she...

It hurts to think that.

So physically, she's good. But mentally and emotionally... not so much.

Flashbacks are terrible things.

I have them everytime I close my eyes, but I can cope; I'm a doctor and I've had some experience of blood and death. But Bella had to deal with it all in one go, and she might have cracked.

James has truly ruined our lives, and they haven't even found him yet.

The police have ensured me that we're all safe; they say he's unlikely to attack again.

This time, if he comes anywhere near me, I won't be responsible for my actions.

I catch myself suddenly, realising how violent that thought is; if I react that way, I'm essentially becoming him. That makes me shudder.

Through the glass, I see Bella's eyes flutter open and I hurry inside, regardless of the consequences. I take a seat by her side and wait until she notices me. Slowly, she sits upright - it's safe to do so now - and turns a little towards me.

"Hi."

She somehow makes me feel better with that single word. Even though it's monotonous and quiet, I smile at her. "Hi, Bella. How are you feeling today?"

"You ask me that everytime I wake up," she murmurs, a wry look on her face. "I'm not too bad today."

That seems to be a loaded sentence, but I don't ask her to elaborate any further.

"How much longer will I have to spend in here?" she asks, sipping her water. I watch her carefully.

"Wounds like yours take a long time to heal, there's no point in lying about it." Her face seems to drop, so I scramble for something positive. "However, if you take good care of it at home and go to regular check ups, it should be within the next few weeks."

"But it's already been, what, a fortnight?" she says, sounding like a grumbling child. I have to resist a smile.

"It's for the best."

With a sigh, she nods. "I know. I believe you."

After a brief pause - during which a nurse checks on Bella, ensuring she has enough pain relief and any other essentials - she turns to face me with a serious look on her face. "Carlisle, you've been looking really sad over these past few days."

My chest suddenly feels light; when she was away from the memories, Bella had actually been observant. I think over my response. "What makes you think that?"

"You just look sad," she replies simply.

I run a hand through my hair. Judging by the look on her face, Bella knows that she's right. "It's just stress over what's happened. Nobody else seems to understand."

"That's why we-" She trails off, shaking her head. "You've got Esme, though."

I'm overwhelmingly curious to hear what she was going to say, but the latter part of her sentence distracts me. The thing is, I don't _want_ to have Esme.

I can't say that though, so I just mumble in agreement.

As if by some weird coincidence, there's another knock on the door and the woman on topic herself steps inside, her face strained.

Fantastic.

"I thought you'd be here," she says to me breezily, but I can hear the hidden edge to her voice. "Isabella, you're looking better. That's good to see." _I bet it is, you can't wait to steal me away_.

Bella smiles up at Esme and she looks beautiful. Even though it's not a genuine smile, it's still a ghost of a possibility of what I could see in the future.

No matter what, I'm keeping in touch with Bella. I've decided. Nobody can stop me.

"Carlisle, I need to have a word with you outside, please."

"I'm visiting Bella."

"I'm just demanding a few minutes out of your time," she says. "Surely you can manage that."

I think it's obvious to everyone in the room that her tone is full of barely contained irriation.

With the quietest of sighs, I stand up and tell Bella that I'll be back before she knows it. Of course this riles Esme even more, but that doesn't matter. As we head outside, I suddenly realise something.

I've gone from caring for Esme to despising her right now.

It's happened so quickly I've barely even noticed it.

I don't know how I feel about it, so I push it to one side and try to focus on her face as she stares at me.

"Carlisle, what the_ hell_ is going on with you and _her_?"

I feel myself frowning at her question; tough one to answer. "What do you mean? I'm merely visiting a woman who was enduring the same ordeal as me just a few weeks ago. It's only natural to-"

"Yes, we've been through all this _before, _over and over again! You said you'd leave when she was getting better and she is now! Why can't you let go?"

"We have a connection. I feel obliged to help her."

"A connection?" she scoffs. "What's that a code for?"

"A code?" I repeat incredulously. She thinks something is happening between Bella and myself.

Again, I don't know how to feel about that.

"I wouldn't be surprised if something's going on! I've seen the way you look at her, Carlisle!"

"I'm concerned for her!" I reply, raising my voice a little. It attracts a few curious glances but I carry on regardless with this ridiculous conversation. "You're probably not familiar with it, but sometimes others can be selfless towards strangers and actually show compassion! What's happened to you lately, Esme? You've become consumed by this obsession; you were different before! Nothing is going on!"

Yet.

"I can't help it, Carlisle! I love you, so I care! I just want you back home safe with me!"

"Yeah? Well we can't always get what we want!"

On that note, I head back in to see Bella, trying to ignore what thoughts her words have sparked inside of me.

* * *

"Goodnight, Bella."

As she drifts off to sleep, only just recovering from another severe panic attack that came out of nowhere, I wonder to myself if perhaps I'm becoming too involved with her.

She's never really complained when I've been near; in fact, she appears to be grateful for my presence. Or maybe that's my own hope creeping through, creating false ideas to taunt me with.

I'll have to ask her if she still needs me.

A part of me is telling my mind that this is bad; maybe I'm becoming too attached. I've already told her how I feel the need to protect her, but why exactly is that? Am I falling for somebody who isn't my wife?

I don't even know that much about her. We've had a few jumbled conversations at the hospital, but most of the time Bella's been disorientated with the drugs that are pumping through her system, so her responses weren't exactly rich and informative.

She probably doesn't remember half the things she's been saying to me.

Everything used to be so simple before this; I'd wake up, go to work, come home and then sleep. No drama with guns, another woman and jealousy.

Although, ever since I've met Bella, I've felt some hope. Hope that maybe my life can become interesting again...

But then again, would I rather an interesting life that's complicated, or a boring life that's easy?

Hmm.

"Right, I've had enough, Carlisle!"

Once again, Esme comes storming through the door uninvited and I glare at her furiously. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Can't you see Bella's sleeping?"

Her face scrunches up unattractively. "Bella this, Bella _that_! Carlisle, if you don't give this girl up by tomorrow evening, I'm leaving. It's becoming evidently clear that you feel something more than friendliness towards her and if it continues I'm not putting up with it! I will not be considered second best by my own husband!"

And with that, she leaves, her heels echoing down the corridor.

I suddenly have another twist in my increasingly complicated life.

Placing my head in my hands, I resist the urge to yell in frustration.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Fix You**

_Chapter Nine_

Bella's POV

There's something not quite right between Carlisle and his wife.

This thought flickers through my mind as I sit upright in the hospital bed - something that I've grown completely tired of - and stare straight ahead at my empty room. I've no idea how long I've been stuck here, but it feels too long already. I want to get out of here; it feels claustrophobic, just like the cafe had done, and I feel vulnerable to attack again.

My flat isn't exactly safe either, but at least I'm free to do whatever I like in there. I can make my own food (even if it will, inevitably, taste awful) and I won't need assistance to visit the toilet.

It's hard walking, but I've been given crutches to support my weight with. The gunshot wound is healing well, but I can still remember the moment when...

And, before I can even blink, I'm back there again amongst the fire and flames. James is leering down at me, smug at the pain he's caused.

My body feels hot, my lungs feel stuffed with cotton wool...

The darkness returns again with a vengeance.

* * *

I slowly open my eyes, gradually returning to the room. After drinking a much needed glass of water, I begin to wonder if the rest of my life will be like this. Will I always be plagued by horrific flashbacks, returning to the place where the nightmare happened?

Will Carlisle leave me?

His name has been in my mind practically all of the time. My thoughts are moving in some horrible, constant cycle; Carlisle, will he leave? James, Victoria, the poor man, fire, pain...

I take a deep breath, reminding myself to be calm.

Except it's one of the first times I've woken up without Carlisle by my side. It'd oddly disorientating.

And worrying.

He confuses me. Sometimes it's like he never wants to leave me; I've seen a look in his eyes sometimes. It's very brief, but it looks protective and... somehow intimate. We have a connection few would understand, but I've got a feeling it's about to be severed, because other times he looks so sad and regretful that I just know he's going to leave me.

It's selfish; he has to move on, but I need him. He's like air. Whenever he's near, everything seems bearable.

We've got ourselves into a very dangerous situation.

And it's clear to anybody that his wife disapproves of it. At first she was sympathetic, but now she looks like she hates me.

I can't really blame her; after all, I am stealing her wonderful husband away from her for brief amounts of time. If I were her, I'd cling onto Carlisle and never let go.

That thought catches me by surprise; I'm sounding... possessive.

There's a sudden knock at the door - something which makes me jump stupidly - and I glance up to see a doctor.

Not the doctor I really want to see.

Despite this, he performs some checks - all with a clipboard and pen in his hands - and after asking a few generic questions, he gives me a small smile. "I'm pleased to say that you'll be able to leave within the next couple of days, Miss Swan."

This causes a mixture of fear and joy.

"Obviously you'll have to take it very easily and you'll have regularly visits from a nurse, just to check you're making the right progress. I'd also recommend perhaps talking to somebody who can help ease your trauma following the experience you endured. Maybe a therapist."

All his words sound very serious and I nod, knowing that I should take his advice. These images in my head are crippling and I just really want them to disappear.

It terrifies me, but one way of being able to do that has stuck in my head; alcohol. I'm obviously not able to drink it here, but as soon as I'm home I'll be able to do whatever I like. Kind of.

But a tiny amount of wine would ease the pain, surely?

"Okay, thank you," I manage after a while. He leaves me in peace and, as I shuffle up to reach for some fruit, another knock at the door catches my attention.

My heart leaps into my throat somehow; it's Carlisle. The sight of him brings a wave of peace through me and I smile genuinely. Maybe I could screw the alcohol; Carlisle provides the kind of relief I need. Like some kind of drug.

I'm becoming too reliant on him. That fact is screaming at me, but there's nothing I can do.

"Carlisle," I murmur, watching as he sits beside me.

The look on his face makes my stomach feel light; there's worry in his eyes and he runs his hands through his hair, looking anxious.

Oh God, _no_.

"What's wrong?" I ask, afraid to hear the answer.

He looks at me for a very long time with his tired brown eyes; it's very intense, and I try to imagine the thoughts that are flickering through his head as he stares. His mouth opens and closes briefly, and he suddenly sits backwards nodding, as though he's made some important decision.

"Nothing's wrong, Bella," he says, managing a beautiful smile. The pain from his face disappears and I feel a flood of relief. "I've heard the good news about you leaving soon."

"Yeah, it's great news. The doctor thinks I'm gonna need therapy though, which is true. I can't stop having flashbacks," I add in a quiet voice.

"Me too," he admits, and I feel our connection strengthen. "But there are ways to cope with it. I can help you."

That must mean he's planning on staying in touch, doesn't it? "But aren't you leaving me as soon as I get out of hospital?" Asking this question makes me feel sick, but it's got to be done. He stares at me again, thinking wildly, I imagine.

"I'm not leaving you, Bella. I can't and I refuse to. We need each other to recover, and purely for that reason I will be keeping in contact."

I feel both disappointment and relief again. The complicated blend of emotions I've been experiencing over the past few weeks have been exhausting, but I can't help smiling at him. "Good."

What happens when we're both recovered, though?

I don't ask this question out loud; I settle for another one. "Is your wife happy with this?"

He visibly winces. "Not exactly... but she doesn't have to know."

My eyes widen. Is he planning on being deceptive? For _my_ sake? That seems completely out of character.

At the same time, it's kind of exciting.

"Carlisle, is that a wise idea? If you're going against what she wants, then surely that's not the best thing to do?" I'm saying what's logical, but for once I want him to go against that.

"For the first time, I'm going to do what _I_ want to do, not her." He sounds bitter but determined. He leans forward closer to me and I realise that, at this point, I'd give anything to read his mind.

"I won't be able to rest knowing that you're still damaged," he continues. "I want to keep in touch solely so that you... so you can recover, because that's my instinct." His voice falters and I wonder if he wants to say anything else. "It's a risk I need to take."

I feel oddly close to tears but just nod silently. "How are you going to explain it to her? You'll be away from her."

"It's completely against what I believe in, lying, but I have to. I'll say I have to take extra shifts at the hospital."

"How will you explain that you aren't earning extra money?"

He sighs heavily. "I'll think of something."

There's a long pause.

"Carlisle, this is risky. You don't have to do this for me." _Even though I really, _really_ want you to_.

"I do, Bella," he says, meeting my eyes. "I really do."

"I-"

He cuts off my protests with a gentle finger on my lips. The closeness of his touch takes my breath away and I swallow shakily.

"It'll be fine. I promise. We'll help each other recover."

I never, ever thought this would happen. I thought he'd leave and that I'd have to cope on my own, but he's doing exactly what I'd wished he would. He's staying with me, helping me.

A part of me screams that this is going to end badly, but I ignore it. Thinking about Carlisle takes my mind off everything else, and I find myself smiling as I settle down to sleep later in the day.

* * *

_Two weeks later_

"Home sweet home!"

My voice sounds a little strained as Carlisle opens the door for me, but he seems oblivious. In the days approaching today, I've been feeling a little worried. It's going to be another change coming back home, but I'm ready. I think.

Carlisle drops down my bags onto the floor and looks around. "This is a lovely place, Bella."

"Thank you," I murmur, heading towards the kitchen. I never thought I'd be back here and it suddenly feels lovely. I appreciate everything once over, especially the comforting sound of the kettle boiling.

"Do you want a drink?" I ask. He quickly heads in behind me.

"Bella, I could have done that!"

"You're not gonna be around all the time, so I need to start getting used to being independent again," I say, being reasonable. He nods.

Admittedly, it is a bit of a struggle with my crutches, but I can manage without them for very brief periods of time. Carlisle hovers in the doorway, looking over protectively while I gather everything together, and soon we're sitting on the sofa, cups of coffee in our hands.

It reminds me of being in the cafe when we first met, but I try to ignore that comparison. No more flashbacks today.

"What did you tell Esme?"

His face scrunches up at the mention of her name and I fight back the thought that it's a good thing. "Do we have to talk about her, Bella?"

"Well, she is your... your wife," I reply, hating the word.

After rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, he answers, "I said I was going to an important meeting at work. I swear she was tempted to follow me in her car."

My body runs cold. "What if she does in the future?"

"That'd be interesting."

I turn towards him. "Do you even like her?"

This conversation is getting personal and I realise I might be getting too interested, so I apologise hastily. "Sorry, I'm being too nosey here. I just want you to be happy."

"That's a lot more than she ever wants for me. I will admit, Bella, I'm growing tired of her selfish attitude."

I want to scream _Have you thought about divorce? _but just nod. "Maybe you should do something about it."

We meet eyes. "Yes. Maybe I should."

There's a tense silence after that and I watch Carlisle glancing around curiously.

"I hope you don't think I'm rude," he says, obviously seeing that I've noticed. "I just think you've got a really interesting place."

"Interesting?" I ask, hoping for an explanation.

"It seems like you've made it very... you. That sounds odd, but it's like you've made your stamp on the place. Obviously that's what you usually do with a home, but I love how there are paintings, books, music stacked away everywhere. It's very... homely."

I stare at him after his mini-babble and he grins. He looks so beautiful; his eyes crinkle and look brilliantly alive. "I've got a strange interest in how people decorate their homes, that's all," he explains.

"That's all good, but the place is a mess. I need to have a good tidy up."

"It looks fine, Bella. And besides, there are other things you need to focus on."

_You've got that right._

"I'm afraid, though, that I will have to leave in half an hour, or Esme will start to get suspicious."

His words make it feel like there's a gaping hole in my chest, but I just nod as though I understand. "Of course."

"But I will always be ready if you need me. I'll leave my mobile number..." He quickly scribbles it down and I watch as his hand produces the strangely elegant script. "And don't be afraid to call anytime."

He's being wonderful to me. Surely this must mean something?

I feel so confused.

But I know, when he leaves, I'll be craving his presence once again.

It can only mean one thing. I've gone and done something incredibly stupid.

I've completely fallen for him. A married man.

Like I said before, this can only end badly.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Fix You**

_Chapter Ten_

Carlisle's POV

Guilt has become frighteningly familiar to me, just like an old friend. Actually that's not a particularly accurate comparison, because what I'm feeling leaves me wringing my hands in frustration and praying for things to get easier.

And even doing that still makes me feel as though I'm betraying somebody along the way.

I pull up to my house in the car, sitting still after I cut off the engine. The sudden silence somehow manages to taunt me. I'm being a coward avoiding my problems, but I know I can't stay here all day. I have to go in and see Esme.

I need to act as though I've been at a boring meeting instead of seeing Bella once again.

It's hard living a lie. Soon, everything is going to catch up with me and everything will change.

After reassuring myself that I _can_ do it, I step through the door, expecting accusations to come firing at me from my wife. I've used the lie about work meetings several times now and I'm beginning to wonder if she suspects something. I definitely would. Even though Bella's out of hospital now, it could still be on her mind, right at the back, whispering to her constantly.

Bella's certainly on mine.

I've tried my hardest to give her up. I had actually plucked up the courage to tell her that I had to leave, to move on, but at the last possible moment, I crumbled. I've gone against everything I believe in and I've become a liar.

I just can't stop seeing her. I'm drawn to her, and I'm starting to realise why, even though I furiously deny it.

I even gave her my _number,_ for Christ's sake. That was a dangerous move and, as I sit down on the sofa, exhausted from the day's events, I shake my head. It was a stupid idea which seemed good at the time, but now it could-

"Carlisle, you're home!"

My wife heads in and wraps her arms around my shoulders possessively. Ever since I announced I'd no longer be seeing Bella, she's been more like this, as though she's trying to recapture my attention continuously. Normally I'd be happy with such a development - excited, even - but now it feels like an inconvenience. The last thing I want is Esme doing this and I plaster a smile on my face, hoping it looks convincing.

"Can I have a bit of space, please? I feel a little tired right now."

She steps away, nodding. There's hurt in her facial expression. More guilt for me. "How was it?"

I look at her in confusion for the briefest of moments, then catch myself. I can't afford to have lapses in concentration like that otherwise the secret would no longer be one. "Boring."

My brief response makes her face crumple with sympathy. Another pang of guilt. _You're a terrible person. _"Oh, darling," she murmurs, reaching out to lightly touch my hand.

I don't deserve her. It's times like these that remind me of how caring and loving she can be, and anybody would think I was stupid for risking our relationship.

Maybe, if I try hard enough, I can make it work again. I can somehow convince myself that we're okay, and that Bella is indeed just a friend.

I think for a moment, then edge closer to her. She responds, running her fingers gently through my hair. "I've missed this," she admits.

If I agree with her, I know deep down that it would be a lie. Despite this, I nod, knowing one more can't hurt. "Fancy an early night?" she adds, looking at me suggestively. It's been so long that I can barely take the hint, but once I do, I actually have to contemplate it. Making love should be a natural thing, something that I shouldn't think twice about, but now...

I just wish my mind would stop thinking. I wish I could stop wondering how Bella's coping, if she's suffering from anymore flashbacks, pondering what she's doing right this second. I wish I could start living normally again, being happy.

I wish I could stop questioning if I'm actually happy.

I wish James would burn in hell for all he's done.

I manage to scramble out of my thoughts and look at Esme. She's looking hopeful, and after all that I've put her through, I just can't say no. Knowing it's probably foolish, I smile. "An early night it is."

* * *

I stare out of the window the following day, watching the trees blowing in the heavy wind.

It's one of my very few days off work, so I don't really have any excuse to go anywhere. Esme has planned a meal for us in the evening, and during the day she's demanded that we visit her son, from a previous marriage, Emmett. We get along fine, so that's not what bothers me. I feel restricted, like I'm being forced into doing what she likes.

Is she really so paranoid that she's keeping a close guard on me?

If so, I couldn't really blame her.

I can't help wondering how Bella will be, though.

* * *

The following day, I decide to hold off again. Yesterday was difficult, keeping away like I did, but, coming home at the end of the day, I didn't feel as bad as I usually had. Sure, a small part of me was worried about Bella, but she hadn't phoned me, so I naturally assumed she was doing fine.

It was nice to feel like an honest person once again.

So I continue, trying to live a normal life like before. I head off out to work and will force myself to come straight back home afterwards. I won't be weak and give in.

* * *

It's been three days. Three days since I've visited Bella.

It's been tougher than I imagined as the time has gone by.

I'm trying to wean myself off, but I've been constantly worrying. Anything could have happened in seventy two hours; there might be a serious reason why she hadn't phoned. My heart pounds with anxiety and I press my foot down on the accelerator, nervous to get to her house quicker.

In retrospect, it was stupid to leave her. She's emotionally damaged, what was I thinking?

It's terrible, returning to her when I said I wouldn't. But I've made more of an effort with Esme, so I don't feel quite so guilty. It's still there though, reminding me.

I park my car and hurry up the stairs to her flat, nearly stumbling along the way. I'm gasping for breath when I ring the doorbell, and it's a very long time before Bella answers. Horrible images flicker through my mind as the minutes tick by. When she does appear, though, I exhale with relief.

Then, when I take in her face, my heart sinks.

She looks so _ill_.

Her skin is deathly pale and her eyes are red raw. I see that she's shaking, too, and has an unreadable expression displayed for me.

"Where have you been?" she murmurs. There's a hint of anger in her voice, and this is confirmed when she slams the door behind me. "I've been _waiting_ for you."

I say the first thing that comes to mind. "I'm sorry. You could have phoned me, I gave you my number."

"I didn't want to sound needy." She paces around the room continuously. "I wanted to see if you would turn up without me having to ask." She pauses, taking a shaky breath. "I thought you'd forgotten about me." Her voice breaks and she stares at the floor.

I sigh, edging closer to her. She doesn't back away. "Bella, that's_ never_ going to happen. I thought you would be able to cope. Seeing as you hadn't called me, I assumed you were doing okay."

"How_ can_ I? Not on my own. It's so much easier when you're around." The words come out in a rush, almost tumbling after one another, and I stare at her. Does she really depend on me that much? Is she deliberately trying to make me feel guilty?

It's not a good thing.

"Maybe you're fooling yourself into believing that," I say.

Her eyes are brimming with tears. I suddenly feel ashamed for being so harsh. "I knew this would happen. I _knew_ it." I watch how she crumbles in front of me, turning into a vulnerable wreck. It breaks my heart. "It should have been obvious that you'd eventually tire of me. Why did I let this happen? Why did I let myself hope?"

She hurries behind the kitchen counter, reaching for some wine. I begin to protest, warning her of the dangers of drinking while on medication, but she doesn't take any notice. She swigs it all straight from the bottle, swaying on the spot. Almost instantly, she drinks some more and, as I head over, I notice the large quantity of empty alcohol bottles in the trash.

"Bella, you need to be careful."

"Screw that."

"Really, you do," I insist, taking away the drink. "It's not helping. It's not the_ way_."

"It does. It makes the images go away."

It's worse than I thought. Just how bad have these past few days been?

"Let's sit down," I say calmly, reaching for her hand. Instead of moving away like I expect her to, she does as I suggest. She sits and stares at the coffee table, breathing heavily as a way to soothe herself.

"How are you doing, Bella? Really, honestly tell me. How have you been these last couple of days?" I ask quietly, praying that she'll tell me she's okay, that maybe she was over-reacting earlier.

She stares over at me, looking a little lost once again, and it somehow feels right to touch her, so I do. I hold her carefully in my arms, afraid she might break, and her quivering body rests against mine without protest. Her head finds its place on my shoulder and I run my fingers through her hair, trying to be comforting. I can barely concentrate over how soft and long it feels, but I tilt my own head to rest against hers.

It's very intimate, and I can almost hear her heart beating. We don't move, and all around us is silent, apart from the distant sound of cars hurrying to their destination.

"I thought I was starting to cope, Carlisle, but... but I'm not. I'm not at all. It keeps coming back to me, I k-keep seeing that poor man staring at me. I keep feeling the b-bullet and I... I... it stops when you're here. Or... or when I've... when I'm drunk."

We pull apart and I take in her bare face, red and blotchy from the tears. She still looks effortlessly beautiful.

An urge to kiss her comes out of nowhere, and it takes all my self-restraint to stop myself from doing so. I've already crossed too many lines, told too many lines, and kissing her... that would be adulterous. I've worked so hard to stop this.

But it sounds so damn appealing and... it just feels right, even though it's so wrong.

Bella remains quiet after her confession and I reach for her hand again. "Don't worry. I'll help you through it."

"Will you, though? Can you promise? You haven't been here for three days, why should I trust you?" She stares at me and waits for my answer. I shouldn't really promise as there's no way I can keep it, but she seems so distressed that I just nod. I'll try my best to be there. I need to be around her, anyway. It's becoming blatantly obvious.

"You can, Bella. You can trust me. And of course I'll help you. I really will. I'm a doctor, that's my job. Let's forget what happened, yeah?"

Looking dangerously close to crying again, she closes her eyes and clasps her hands together. "Thank you," she whispers.

"It's okay. It'll be okay."

We sit quietly for a time I can't measure and I think furiously to myself. I really should refer her for some counselling; the growing reliance on alcohol is far from good, as well as her dependence on me. I can't be here with her all the time, it's just not possible. There's also bound to be something healthy out there that will help with the flashbacks other than-

"Carlisle, what are you thinking?"

Bella's question catches me offguard. I decide to answer honestly. "How to help you."

She pulls away, looking worried. "That sounds ominous. You won't send me away anywhere, will you? You can't make me go." Her voice rises close to hysteria and I reach for her hand again.

"No, Bella. If you don't want to go anywhere then I won't force you. I just want to help you as best as I can."

She stares at me. "I'm not used to anybody caring for me like that."

"Really?"

She nods. "It's... it's heartwarming."

I open my mouth to say my reply, but in a movement that would be missed in the blink of an eye, Bella suddenly leans over and forcefully places her lips on mine.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Fix You**

_Chapter Eleven_

Bella's POV

I don't know what's come over me. Perhaps it's lust at its most powerful, but I just have to show Carlisle how much he means to me. I didn't even think; my sense of being rational just completely deserted me, and now I'm frantically grabbing his hair between my fingers.

I just missed him so damn _much_. It physically hurt having him away and, although it's selfish, I just _need_ him.

The three days of his absence were some of the worst I'd ever experienced, no exaggeration.

On the first day, I was full of hope. I told myself that it'd be okay, that I could recover and regain a normal life. Carlisle was a rolemodel for me; he was being strong and resilient, so why couldn't I be the same? Perhaps I'd been through worse than him, but he was still an inspiration.

So, during that day, I made myself look like I'd recovered. I showered, spent time on my hair and make up, and found some nice clothes from my wardrobe. I cleaned up my flat and even considered venturing outside, but that seemed like a step too far. Besides, my wound was still a little sore and was certainly taking its time to recover. I always had to be careful with it and, on top of that, the prospect of rejoining the world outside seemed terrifying. Anything could happen.

I cleared out the empty bottles. It wasn't the answer.

By eight at night, though, I began to worry. It seemed like he wasn't going to turn up. It was a bit late...

The panic settled in my stomach, creating a light and sickening feeling. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall was louder than ever, and I started to wonder if he'd had an accident. Was he okay? Oh _God_, what if I lost him?

The urge to call him was overwhelming. But would that have sounded too needy? Maybe I should have just waited to see if he turned up willingly.

I decided on that, but continued to worry throughout the evening.

By eleven, I resolved that he wasn't coming.

He was probably busy with his wife. It was likely he'd forgotten about me, even though he'd promised to come over and had given me so much hope. He had other priorities, and though that was fair enough, it still felt like a kick in the stomach.

I curled up on the sofa, feeling oddly hollow.

A part of me told myself that I was being stupid. He didn't have to come over every single day; he had a life.

But another part of me argued that he should be there with me. He'd said he would.

The night was long and haunted me with images. It was nothing short of torture. The darkness seemed to suffocate me and I felt short of air, like I was trapped with no way of escape. I kept seeing the motionless man whose name I couldn't remember staring back at me once again, almost blaming me for his death. I could hear the gunshot and feel the almost undescribable agony as the bullet ripped through my skin. I could imagine the flames engulfing us all, turning our existence into dust.

I woke up the next morning on the floor. I was shaking and covered in a cold sweat, and somehow just couldn't make myself move upright. It terrified me, and I almost threw up the little contents of my stomach.

Eventually, I dragged myself up, almost swaying with the sudden dizziness.

_I can't live like this._

I forced myself to stand and then checked if there were any notes of apology shoved under the door. There was nothing.

The disappointment was overwhelming.

I made my way into the kitchen and reached into the cupboard, thinking of nothing but making everything go away. It was too much to cope with and, although it was extreme, I just needed something to take off the edge.

A bottle of wine greeted me and the feeling it provided as the alcohol made its way through my bloodstream made me smile woozily. Everything was becoming a little more blurry, more distant, and my memories were merging into happier ones. Everything was better.

I spent my day in a mess. A mess where I could forget everything.

By the following day, I began to hate Carlisle. I woke up feeling absolutely awful, hurrying to throw up in the sink. Despite that, instead of reaching for some breakfast which would have been the healthy option, I reached for another bottle. I was trapped in a self-destructive circle which I somehow kidded myself into believing was helping me.

But then Carlisle turned up. Finally.

It was tempting to hit him, but I resisted, knowing he shouldn't be hurt. He tried to explain himself, saying the usual that he could help me, that I wasn't being safe and good to myself by drinking. I wanted to swear at him and lash out, but he somehow managed to get me calm on the sofa, with his arms around me. He tended to have that effect on me.

It felt wonderful, but so painful at the same time.

He managed to gain my trust once again. I'd forgiven him. It happened so quickly that it surprised me. It was dangerous how easy I was willing to put my faith in this man, even though he'd let me down.

But seeing him again now is overwhelming. He's being close and intimate, and I want to kiss him.

So I do.

And he's kissing me back.

There's no denying it. I'm not imagining things; his lips are pressing back onto mine, and I've never felt so alive. The rush of pleasure and excitement takes over, and I pull him as close as I can, relishing in his touch.

It's just bliss. Everything that I've wanted. Everything will be okay now. Carlisle wants me.

I can see our life in front of me; we'll be happy together, helping one another through anything that comes at us.

He'll leave Esme. He'll just want me and we'll be-

Everything is suddenly shattered when he suddenly pulls away. It's over already.

We're both breathing heavily in shock, but I find it strangely hard to look at him. I'm almost afraid at what I'll see, but I drag my eyes to his. I see regret, guilt, anger.

Just as quickly as the hope came, it disappears. The blackness creeps back, ready to greet me once again.

"Bella, I..." he stammers. "I don't quite... I don't know what happened."

"Isn't it obvious?" I reply without thinking.

"It can't happen. _This_ can't happen."

"Why did you kiss me back, then?" I shout, feeling all the frustration returning full force. Why would he show so much enthusiasm if he thought it _couldn't happen_? "You can't mess me around, Carlisle!"

He runs a hand through his hair. "I know that. I just... I shouldn't have let that happen."

"You could have pushed me away," I continue, suddenly furious at him. "You could have let me down straight away, but _no_! You just had to get my hopes up and then stamp on them with your foot. Everything's revolving around you and that's the second time you've let me down! Why don't you just get it over with instead of stringing me along?"

"You said you needed me!" he counters, his own voice raising. "And I hardly had time to react, you were all over me."

I can't even look at him anymore. I stare at the floor, willing myself not to cry. That would be so pathetically weak.

But I'm fragile. This is probably enough to break me.

I can suddenly see that this is never going to work. I need him so desperately, but now I've gone and screwed everything up. He knows how I feel, how much I crave him, and now he can't stand the pressure. He never asked for this, after all. He's going to leave and make me survive on my own.

I don't know if I can, but it's inevitable.

"This isn't your fault, Bella," he says, clearly trying to redeem the situation. He wants to apologise and make me like him again before he leaves. Well that's not going to happen. Not this time.

I don't bother to reply.

"Maybe it's, um, best if I leave."

The words each feel like a punch in the stomach again, but I nod slowly. Don't show any emotion.

It's so hard not to crumble in front of him.

"I'll... uh, I'll keep in touch," he mutters, staring at me as he heads to the door.

He won't.

He hesitates and, without another word, he slowly opens the door and disappears down the stairs and out of my life. I hurry and lock the door behind him, biting down on my lip until I feel the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

Determined not to cry, I reach for a bottle of wine. The moment it hits my tongue, I feel a bit more relaxed. I know it's only covering the problem, like putting a band aid over a gaping wound, but that doesn't matter right now.

What matters is the pleasant feeling of numbness gradually overtaking my body.

Before I know it, the whole bottle's gone. I stagger on the spot; everything seems to have multiplied, and I giggle. That's funny. I have two televisions. Huh.

I hear some noise coming from the flat next to me and frown, squeezing my eyes together to work out who it is. I think it's that lonely young man who I've never spoken to. I remember thinking about him when everything happened in the caf-

No, I'm not thinking about that. I shake my head furiously, making my stomach turn over. I hold down the alcohol, though, and head to the door. I'm going to pay the man a visit. Get to know him. He'll like that. Yes.

He's alone, like me. I wonder if anybody's let him down. Probably.

I hammer on the door, smiling to myself. What a good idea this is. Why didn't I think of it before? I can make a new friend.

It's a long time before he answers, but when he does I'm pleasantly surprised. He's cute. He has messy brown hair and bright green eyes that are focused on my face, looking thoroughly confused.

"Hello?" he says slowly in a deep voice. "Can I, uh, help you?"

"I'm your neighbour," I reply, managing not to slur.

"I know that." His eyes squint. "Wait, are you the one that was involved in... y'know?" He gestures with his hands wildly. "The whole _thing_?"

"Yeah," I nod, stumbling on my feet. Why won't he just invite me in? I don't want to talk about this.

"I'm sorry about that." I close my eyes and sigh. "Wait, are you drunk?"

I look up and see him staring at me. "Maybe," I shrug. "Got a problem with that?"

My eyes trail over into his flat and wow, it looks really nice. It's cluttered with books, CDs, DVDs, and I can hear the TV blazing again. "You're in a bit of a state," he murmurs.

"Mission accomplished, then," I stammer, trying several times to force out the words. Too many... what are they called? Syllables. That's it, too many syllables.

"It's dangerous leaving you on your own," he frowns. "Do you want to come in for a bit? I'll try to sober you up."

Even though I don't know him, I agree and step in. He's caring about me; he's concerned and wants to look after me. That's all that matters right now. I think. "I don't want to sober up," I protest when he shuts the door.

"Why not?" he asks, heading to what I assume is the kitchen. I hear a noise that's probably a kettle. The noise is annoying.

"_Because_ I like being drunk."

I slump to the floor without warning and, after hearing the sound I make, he hurries out, crouching by my side. "Are you alright?" Stupid question. He clicks his fingers in front of me, but I just want to stay in my trance. It's nice. "What's your name?" he asks.

That brings back memories of _him_ and the café, and I try not to cry in front of a stranger. "B-Bella," I mutter.

"Alright, Bella. I'm Edward. I'm going to lift you up onto the sofa now, okay? It's probably cold on the floor. I'll get you a blanket."

As he heads off in another direction, I'm suddenly struck by how stupid I've been. He seems kind and thoughtful, but what if he'd turned out another way? What if I'd unthinkingly stepped into the home of a crazed maniac like James?

I feel sick.

"Here you go," he says suddenly, and I jump. What's going on? I'm meant to be forgetting everything, but it's all creeping through slowly and relentlessly. I'm going to end up crying in front of him and-

"I can't begin to imagine what you're going through," I hear him say, but I can't manage a response. I've no idea if it's worth my time getting attached to him; will he let me down too?

"It looks like you're seriously affected by it all. If you need help, there's no need to suffer in silence. I could... I dunno, you could talk to me. It looks like you've been bottling it all up."

I look at him for a long time, wondering just why he cares. I ask him aloud.

"Why do I care?" he repeats, chewing on his lip. "Well, I guess... I've always wanted to talk to you, to actually have a friend here, but I've chickened out everytime. Now seems like the perfect opportunity." He pauses. "Although it's not all about me. I'd like to help you, clearly."

He seems perfect.

Why can't Carlisle be like this? Why can't he be unattached, actually wanting me too?

I've no idea if I'm being horribly selfish, but my mind is unbelievably messed up. I can barely string sentences together anymore.

"Thank you. I d-don't really deserve it, though," I manage eventually. "I've been an idiot."

"You can tell me about it if you like," he says. I glance over at him, and I truly believe that he means every word. Maybe I'm being stupid, or just too damn hopeful, but I honestly think I'm right.

With a sigh, I manage a tiny wry smile. "How long have you got?"

* * *

**So Bella's steadily getting worse... I'd love to know what you think - is she being selfish or stupid? Is Carlisle being unfair reacting the way he did? What do you think of Edward? Please let me know if you have the time.**


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Fix You**

_Chapter Twelve_

Carlisle's POV

Oh Lord, what have I_ done_?

I've been such a coward. Such an awful, disgusting coward, the same as usual. I've denied my feelings and lied to myself. I chickened out when Bella took all her courage to show me how she felt and now... I'm just full of nothing but regret.

I sit in my car with my head on the wheel. My knuckles are sore from the amount of times I've punched it and I breathe heavily, trying to calm myself. I keep imagining how perfect Bella's lips felt against mine. They were soft and warm, both desperate and passionate. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss her back and so I did, giving the message that I felt the same way.

Then I pulled away and practically attacked her for her bravery.

I'm just an awful person. I should be feeling guilty about betraying my wife, but instead I feel guilty about the way I treated Bella.

The reality is, I _wanted_ to kiss her back. I've accepted that. I wanted to do something more. I wanted to show her how much she means to me.

And now, I can't just go back and beg her to forgive me. I can't see her anymore; it's the end. She'll have to cope on her own; she was so fragile and now I've probably made everything worse. What will she become now?

Will she grow to rely on somebody else? Perhaps that's for the best.

I hit the wheel once more, setting off the car horn. My hand throbs and the pain feels good; I deserve it. I deserve punishment after the way I've acted today.

I don't know what to do. Somewhere deep down tells me that I ought to stop seeing her, like I thought before; that I should put all this behind me.

Yet trying to forget Bella would be like trying to remember somebody I've never met; impossible.

I loathe myself.

Cursing wildly, I drive off into the distance. I'm soon surrounded by trees, tall towers of green trapping me underneath their long branches, but I don't care where I'm headed. I just drive and drive until I can't see anymore and have to stop.

Then I think. I think until my thoughts blur and my head aches.

* * *

As I stare into the mirror the following morning, I shudder at my reflection. The night provided me with no sleep at all, and I'm now left with red rimmed eyes and dark circles that seem almost permanent. My skin is pasty and pale, and I wash myself with a blast of cold water, trying to improve how I feel.

It doesn't work.

This is going to affect my work. If my performance dips because of my own behaviour then-

My thoughts trail off towards my plans for the evening; that seems to matter most. I'm going to see Bella... for the final time. It'll be my goodbye. I've made my decision.

I feel sick with nerves about it, but I've the whole day to prepare what to say. Well, when I'm not working, that is.

I wonder if it's a good idea going in, but I can't risk any suspicion. I call goodbye to Esme and head outside, just wishing it could be all over.

Wishing never gets anybody anywhere.

* * *

The day feels like the longest in my life. I've made sloppy errors, accidentally ignored colleagues and nearly spilt coffee down my coat.

But now is what matters.

This will be the last time I see Bella. I need to end it, to have closure of some sort. I'll go up there, apologise for my behaviour, and end this. It'll be tough, but it's best for her in the long run. She can move on and not have to deal with me anymore.

I pull up outside her home once again and the darkness around me seems somehow threatening when I turn off the lights. My stomach feels sick and it's tough to walk in a straight line towards the stairs. It's the right thing to do, but I'm filled with dread. She's going to hate me for this. Even more than she already does.

But, after all we've been through, I need to ensure the best for her.

My throat feels tight as I knock on her door. It takes a long time for her to answer and, while I wait, I wonder what sort of state she'll be in this time.

But, when the door opens, I see something completely unexpected.

There's a skinny man standing in front of me, looking back at me in confusion. His eyes scan me, as if I'm some kind of threat, and I suddenly smell alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke.

"Is Bella in?" I ask, swallowing down my distaste.

He frowns. "Who are you?"

"A friend."

"Bella," he suddenly says in a deep voice, turning around, "there's somebody here to see you."

There's a loud noise, followed by something that sounds like a bottle falling over, and she's suddenly stumbling in front of me, her eyes widening as she sees me. She's been drinking again, it's obvious, but she seems to almost sober up at the sight of me. Her eyes turn blank with pain and I feel a dull ache in my chest.

_You have to do this._

"Bella, can we please talk?" Nobody moves. "In private?"

I can hear her breathing. It's a long time before she answers. "Edward, would you m-mind?"

The man whose been blocking most of the doorway possessively suddenly turns towards her. I can't see his expression, but Bella smiles briefly at him, so I'm assuming he's agreed.

To my absolute horror, though, he suddenly leans over and kisses her straight on the lips that had been on mine just a short time ago, promising to come in to see her later.

As he brushes by me, I'm overwhelmed by a feeling of sickness.

I try to reason with myself. It's a good thing that she has somebody now. Even though it's incredibly quick.

But, for the first time, I believe that I can understand how it felt for Bella whenever she saw me with Esme. It was possibly one of the worst feelings I'd ever experienced.

Looking down at the floor, Bella speaks. "Aren't you g-gonna come in then?"

I do so slowly, pushing the door shut behind me. The place is messy, scattered with rubbish and bottles, but I refrain from commenting. It doesn't seem to matter anymore; I've turned oddly numb.

But I'm here for a reason. I have to do this.

"I see you've found somebody," I comment, and I'm surprised at how my voice sounds. Monotonous, lost.

"Hmm," she says, not offering anything else. Her hands are twitching by her sides and I can't stop myself.

"Why are you drinking so much?"

Her eyes briefly flicker up to mine. "I told you why. It stops the images. Not that you c-care, anymore."

"Bella, of course I care! I can't watch you destroy yourself." I pause. "In fact, that's why I'm here..."

She tenses, and her small body suddenly looks so frail and vulnerable. It's making what I have to do even harder, and I clench my fists at my side, willing myself not to be a coward anymore.

"I'll make you a coffee," I say, delaying the inevitable. I want her mind to be clear so that she can fully understand that I'm doing this for her sake. She remains quiet as I hand over the mug and her lips sip at it silently. She still waits.

"Bella," I murmur, and I watch how her eyes never leave mine. I don't know how I can tell, but my instinct tells me that she's forgiven me somehow, that she still wants me here. That she's missed me.

Or perhaps I'm being too hopeful.

"Bella," I repeat, willing the words to come out, "I shouldn't be here. I _really_ shouldn't be here. Not again." I know it was my choice to go, but the words still feel right to say, even though her face seems to crumple at the sound.

"Why not?" she eventually asks. "Why can't you be here?"

I've put her through so much pain by being so bipolar. I'm an awful person.

"Bella, you know why. I'm married." Her eyes seem distant, then, and I hurry over, gripping her hand in mine. I try to convey that it'll be alright for her, that she'll recover and that I'm just a bad person, but she doesn't seem convinced. I can see the dependence there, the unwillingness to let go.

But we both must.

"I know it's tough, Bella, and I'm... I'm sorry if I've made it any worse. So sorry."

"You haven't made it worse, C-Carlisle. You've helped me survive." She speaks in a rush, stumbling over her words. It seems as though the desperation has taken over her pride; everything I've done wrong seems to be forgotten and I feel an awful rush of guilt. "I dread to think what would have happened if you weren't always there for me."

I want to yell, to shout at how unfair everything is. "I really do love your company," I start, speaking with my eyes shut to make it easier, "and I'm so glad that I've been able to help you, but I fear I'm becoming too involved. I... I'm slowly losing control, Bella, and I want to stop this before I do, before people get hurt. I couldn't bear that."

When I look at her, my eyes follow the path her tears make down her cheeks. Oh God. "Don't cry, Bella, please don't... it breaks my heart, it really does," I whisper. Selfish, once again.

"Okay," she murmurs, just a shadow or herself. Have I caused this?

"There are other people out there who are trained to help victims like you," I continue, trying to salvage something. "I'm not qualified in that field. I should have realised that sooner before I did any damage."

"You're a doctor... you heal people," she tries desperately. I feel the ache return to my throat. This has to be done now, before it becomes anymore painful.

"No, Bella. I... I'm sorry, I can't help you anymore."

"You were _there_ with me. You understand what we've been through... _Carlisle_!"

Her desperate voice seems to cut through me; each word is like a knife through my chest. I have to speak before I lose the ability to. "I've left you a list of numbers of people who can help you. It's on the table over there." While I was making the coffee, I'd quickly slipped it there, resisting the urge to keep them to myself. It would be for her own good; they could help her, not me. "Whenever you need it, please tell me that you'll use them? Bella?"

After a long time, she manages a rigid nod. "Right. Good."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, because I can't think of anything else. The words don't seem powerful enough; I'd need a vast vocabulary to try to convey how much misery I feel at hurting her.

But now's the time to leave. It needs to be done. No more contact. She can take care of herself. Besides, she has that man now, whatever his name was.

I press my lips briefly against her forehead, telling myself that this will be the last touch I will have of her. I linger, trying to remember her in my mind, and then, before I can change my mind, I rush out the door without a second glance.

As I head down the stairs, my eyes are blurring with tears. Leaving her was painful, so, _so_ painful, but the worst thing was how easily she'd forgiven me. After I'd misled her by returning her kiss, she'd still forgiven me over time, and I had no idea why that was.

But, again, I've let her down. It'll be the last time, though. I'll never see her again now and that way I can't hurt her. It's for the best.

Yet it still hurts more than I could ever imagine.

* * *

**So that's where the prologue fits in! Ta da.**

**I know Carlisle's being a bit of a jerk but he's truly trying to do the best for Bella... even if it ends up hurting her. But anyway, sorry if you hate him now, but he's going to redeem himself later...**

**Thanks for reading! It'd be lovely to hear what you think.**


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